Series: Lords of Rathe Series by Meagan Brandy
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
I watch him go, a strange sense of satisfaction sweeping through me.
With one last glance back at the Flying Grounds I take off toward the main campus.
When the spires of Rathe University rise into view, I angle toward the eastern promenade, following the path of lanterns suspended in a lazy arc of floating chains. These weren’t here on my way out, but it’s clearly a path meant to be followed.
Something in my chest pulls tight, like an invisible hand curling inward and urging me elsewhere.
I flip the codex to the map, and ink appears, shifting into lines, the campus sketching itself alive beneath my fingertips. Glowing faintly at the border of the Fae Conservatory is the royal gateway.
Not twenty feet from where I’m standing, and the opposite pathway of the lanterns.
I step off the path and the lanterns flicker and die as I follow where the codex wants to lead—Creed has said that was the whole point of it, right? Like it knows best or some shit.
And there it is. Tucked beyond a curtain of hanging willow branches sits an archway, small enough to miss unless you’re looking straight at it. Gods, it’s beautiful.
Vines of gold and black curl around its frame like veins beneath translucent skin, pulsing faintly, responding to the magic of the campus like a heartbeat. Flowers shaped like falling stars cling to the arch, their petals luminescent and dripping soft sparks into the grass.
And carved deep into the stone lintel, so delicate it could’ve been etched by a whisper: Deveraux.
I step closer, breath drawing slow and uneven. Some instinct in me paces against my ribs, urging caution while another thrums with…curiosity.
“Well, well, King Creed,” I murmur, reaching out. “That’s a half a point for you. But let’s see if there is a lie in there somewhere.”
The moment my fingertips graze the wood, pain snaps up my arm, sharp and electric.
I hiss through my teeth and shake out my hand, then place my palm back against the surface.
This time the burn is instant, searing across my skin like a brand, heat licking up my wrist like molten gold poured beneath the bone, but I don’t pull away. I lean in. Dare it.
The fire climbs hotter and I nearly crumble to my knees when it suddenly drops.
Ice floods outward, freezing the surface beneath my palm, crawling up my veins like frost gripping a windowpane. I gasp and yank back, flexing my fingers as white steam curls from my skin.
“What the fu—”
A whisper cuts across the air, footsteps following.
I focus but don’t move, listening.
Three, maybe four, closing in.
One breath.
A second.
I pivot, hands already finding the dagger at my thigh as figures slide from the shadows between the trees. All students here at Rathe U, each one wearing expressions carved from suspicion to hate.
One steps forward, the wind whirling around her wrist.
“There she is,” she spits. “The Exile rat.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Must’ve taken all of you to come up with that one. Impressive.”
“Shut up.” Another steps beside her, crackling flame in his palm. “You couldn’t just follow the damn path like a good little giftless, could you?”
“Ah, the lanterns.” Glad I looked at my damn codex. “That wasn’t obvious at all, now, was it?”
The other jerks forward again, lips curled back in a sneer. “If Galley would have done her job, we wouldn’t have needed a backup plan.”
Galley. The girl from the Flying Grounds.
That’s what she meant. She was supposed to somehow lead me right into the palm of their hands.
She picked the wrong fucking place to do it.
“Trail to the dark lands or right here in the heart of campus, it doesn’t matter,” she continues. “We’ll just have to kill you a little more silently than planned.”
My head yanks back. “Kill me?”
Angry gifted out for my blood twice in one day?
This place is feeling more like home by the day.
“We know you’re behind the murders!” One hisses, light flickering from her fingertips.
“Right,” I drawl, sliding my gaze across them, counting angles, advantages, and I’d count weapons but these are gifted kids. Their weapons live inside them. Fuck. “Because when I kill someone, I always leave them in public places for maximum inconvenience.”
The girl’s face twists. “You killed your partner in combat class—everyone saw it. But he was a Stygian and you didn’t have the guts, not with our Kings so close. So, you went after someone you saw as weaker just because she was Argents.”
“We know you killed Elena!” another yells.
My jaw ticks. “That’s cute. Completely wrong, but cute.”
They advance, magic thickening in the air around us.
Double fuck.
I throw the first strike, blade aimed low, not to kill but to disable. I don’t miss, drawing a clean line across the calf of the boy on the left. He yells, stumbling, but the girl is already on me, hurling a blast of energy that knocks the wind from my lungs and sends me sliding through the dirt.