Ebony Rising: (The Raven Queen's Harem Part 2) by Angel Lawson

Author:Angel Lawson [lawson, Angel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-08-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Damien

With the package in hand, I cross the entry foyer, hoping to catch Dylan in his rooms. Davis, always seeming to know my intent, stops me from the pantry off the kitchen.

“Master Dylan is down in the training room.”

“Is he?” He hadn’t mentioned an extra session, but I suspect I know the reason. “Thank you, Davis, you saved me from going up three flights of stairs.”

I cut down the side hallway and take the back stairway to the basement training room. Midway down I hear the loud, thumping bass Dylan cranks up during workouts. I push open the door and see he and Clinton are in the middle of one of their crazy circuits. The moves are intense and I can’t help but stop in the doorway and watch.

Although we’re all superb physical beings, Dylan and Clinton are the biggest of the guardians. Dylan is tall and lean, his muscles tight cords that run along his back and arms. Clinton is just massive. A huge beast of a man. When you see them like this—or really any of us in the training room—it’s not far-fetched to believe we were created by the gods.

With Clinton timing, Dylan begins the last round of nine circuits. Nine pull-ups, nine push-ups, nine dead-lifts, then platform jumps, planks, and four other back-breaking exercises. Dylan groans in pain as he pushes through the final round, screaming as he drags a hundred-pound weight from one side of the room to the other.

“Time,” Clinton says.

Dylan screams in pain, relief, and accomplishment before picking up the weight and throwing it across the room. It lands two feet away from me with a crash on the rubber mat.

“Hey,” I call out. “Don’t take that stress out on me.”

They both look up and Dylan gives me a sheepish grin. He’s breathing heavy and sweat soaks through his gray t-shirt.

“You want in?” Clinton asks, racking the weights.

I shake my head. “I worked out earlier and I’m about to head out for a while.” I hold up the package. “I finished.”

Clinton drops the last weight in the rack with a heavy thud and Dylan stares at the felt-wrapped object in my hands. I unwrap it, excited to show them.

“Damn, she’s gorgeous,” Clinton says.

“Can I?” Dylan asks, holding out his hand.

“Yeah, of course.”

The sword is solid but lightweight. The hilt is carved with protective runes and I embedded magic-infused gems into the guard. Dylan takes the sword by the grip and holds it upright. “Beautiful.”

He performs a few moves, the blade cutting through the air and glinting in the harsh training room lights. Satisfied, he flips it over and offers the handle to Clinton, who tentatively takes the powerful weapon.

“You’ll start training her tomorrow?” Dylan asks him.

“First thing.” He raises an eyebrow, skeptically. “You’re sure this is a good idea?”

“It’s part of the prophecy. We have to teach her properly. God forbid the gate falls and she’s unable to fight.”

“What if she uses it against us?” I ask. It’s the question we all have.

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