Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
I don’t say anything to that. What is there to say? A part of me hates that Willow is Tethered to me, only because of the peril it places her in, but the other half enjoys it because for once, someone understands my angles. For once, there is someone who vouches for me, and probably always will, no matter what I do. She feels me and understands everything I do without me having to say a word, whether she agrees with it or not.
“The Council will have your head for killing Rami,” he goes on.
“Nah.” I take one last pull, exhale, and then drop the bloom, stepping on the lit end. “They’ve been wanting to get rid of Rami for a long time. They’re probably glad he’s gone. Besides, if they wanted me head, they’d have gotten it already. There’s a reason they want me coming to Luxor. I’m not sure what that reason is yet, but I get the sense that I have nothing to worry about as far as what was done to Rami.”
“With Rami gone, do you think…” Killian drops his head, working his jaw.
“His son,” I mumble.
“He’s only twenty-seven,” Killian says. “Still a boy. Knowing his father is dead and that you killed him, he’ll likely seek his own revenge. If not him, someone else in Rami’s clan will.”
“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. As you said, he’s just a boy, and from what I’ve heard, Rami was never really a present father. We get to the boy, get him on our side, squash this brewing war with the Rippies, and finally clear the air.”
A train zips by, the wind causing my jacket to flap. When it stops, the brakes squealing, I say, “This is us.”
We board the train, people moving out of our way as we maneuver to VIP. It’s vacant, so I take a seat by the window. Killian takes the seat across from me, and a trainwoman approaches, asking if we’d like anything to drink. I request a whiskey. Killian goes for blue tonic, most likely to keep him calm. He hates the train.
“I’m surprised you’re willing to come,” I say when the train lurches and departs.
Killian inhales, then exhales slowly. “I’ve said this once, and I’ll say it again. When we had that feud—the one against the Rippies near Shadow’s Peak—and that one fucker gassed me and dragged me to that Rippie pit to torture me, you found me, and you saved my life.” Killian eyes me, a serious stare mixed with sincerity. “You didn’t ask questions, and you didn’t hesitate. You killed every bloody Rippie in there and got me out when I thought I was as good as dead, and for that, I’ll owe you forever.” He leans forward, capping my shoulder with his large hand. I feel his touch searing through my clothes, and as badly as it hurts, I don’t move. “Wherever you go, I go, brother. And no matter how much your decisions piss me off, you’ll never face your threats alone. Not while I’m still breathing.”
I nod, clapping his shoulder too, smiling. “I appreciate you, brother. I really do.”
Three hours is all it takes to get to Luxor on the flash train.
As soon as we step off, I draw in a breath. The air is much different in Luxor than it is in other territories. It’s clearer, with a sweet scent that reminds me of honey. But it’s also cold, so it’s like frosted honey, if it were a thing.
The train moves away, and Killian and I leave the station. Mountains farther than the eye can see are ahead, capped with snow. A chill rides through me, and I turn my head left as a silver X-Stinger approaches. It stops in front of us, and a man climbs out from behind the driver’s side.
“Monarch Harlow?” he asks, eyeing me.
“That’s me.”
“I’m Garan of Luxor, and I will be taking you to Council Castle.” He pulls the back door of the car open, and I glance at Killian, who throws me a cautious look, before I walk ahead, climbing inside. Killian marches to the other side to get in, and Garan is behind the wheel again, driving away from the station.
“It’s a cold one out there, innit?” Garan smiles as he looks through the rearview mirror.
I’m not in the mood for small talk. Their drivers always do this—try to ask questions to pose distractions. I know how The Council works. They want me to lower my guard, butter me up.
Killian and I already agreed that we won’t be having drinks or any food while in Council Castle. I’ve heard the stories, how they slip poison in drinks and give it to those who’ve done wrong. They’ll offer food that looks delectable but is actually rotten. Only they can see that it’s rotten, due to some sort of spell they put on the food.