Queen of Destruction by Gwynn White & Erin St Pierre

Author:Gwynn White & Erin St Pierre [White, Gwynn & Pierre, Erin St]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: 4xOverland Ltd
Published: 2017-04-22T18:30:00+00:00

Raith hunched in the shadows cast by a thick redbrick chimney on the low, sloping rooftop of one of the capital’s many bakeries. Although long past the ringing of the curfew bells, the chimney still puffed happily. The innocent aroma of fresh bread, warm butter, and caramelized sugar hung in the chilled air.

As if a massacre isn’t about to occur at my hands.

That wasn’t his only concern.

He gulped and closed his eyes. He’d finally said it to Carian. The finger of blame for Trojean’s death now pointed sharp and direct at his brother.

A cold flash of fear shivered down his spine.

Carian would never let it go unchallenged. It wasn’t in his nature.

How had he gotten to this point?

In just a few short weeks, he had left the security of Lorithian for a world where an enemy waited around every corner to kill him.

And how had his brother—one of the only people he had ever given a damn about—become one of those enemies?

He had never been so alone.

There was no Trojean, and no Carian, and no way to stop the swirl of the tide he had started. It was too late to turn back, no matter how much he wanted to. And even if he could walk away without fear of retribution from Aurora or Jorah or Carian or Artemis, his cravings for blood and power would never allow it. His body—his mind—was no longer his own. His chest swelled with pain, and he buried his head in his hands. “Maleficent save me.” He drew in a ragged breath, trying to force his heart to slow.

Even in this, he failed miserably.

As hopeless as everything was, all he could do was continue with his only plan: beguile Artemis into giving him that seat on the forum.

A noise on the cobblestone street drifted up to him. He peeked his head up, holding his breath.

Footsteps rasped on the stone.

Was it the woman with silvery hair?

His skin itched and he nocked an arrow in his bow. He sighed with relief and lowered the weapon as three figures—strangers—darted from shadow to shadow along the walls. One of them swung forward on twin crutches, his threadbare cloak flaring out behind him. His friends hissed at him to hurry up. He snapped a sharp retort in response.

Raith balanced on his knees, praying that the shingles wouldn’t click to betray him. They remained silent as he lifted his bow and arrow again. To claim the Infirm man, he would have to kill all of them. Hopefully, when he did, he’d discover that all three of them were Magical. That would cut his list of dead Artemis had demanded by morning in half. He trained the arrow on the shadows, waiting for his first victim to emerge.

“We can’t allow this to continue,” one of the men hissed to the others. “It’s time to fight back.”

Raith froze. What could they possibly be planning?

“Where are the others?” another whispered.

Raith strained his ears but couldn’t make out a response. He lowered his bow, and tucked the arrow back into the quiver.

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