Page 2 of Brutal Birthright

Until the next demands for the warlord’s services came calling, it was time to go live his own damn life.

“Well, then she guessed right. I’m leaving. Can’t save your prissy little ass this time, sorry.”

A snort from Niall filled the silence between them. Rowan swiped up his shirt from the ground; the scent of sawdust and earth filled his nose as he scrubbed it over his face. Surrounding him with sweat and dirt and magic and the ever-present self-loathing that came with being good for only one thing.

The arena echoed like a vast, empty cavern. The two brothers were the only ones left now, as the rest of the fae guards had long finished training for the night and returned to their quarters.

Another reminder that this place was a far cry from the calm of watching deer graze the lush grass surrounding his cottage. Hidden amongst the forest, the simple wooden cabin was his sanity and sanctuary all in one. Shit, he missed the quiet. The breeze as it rustled the leaves. Water bubbling across mossy rocks in the nearby stream. Dappled sunlight filtering through the forest. He yearned to get back.

“There’s been another slaughter.”

Rowan stilled.

Fuck.

His brother’s lips thinned. A telltale sign of the truth behind his words. Niall might be the golden fucking princess and always quick with a joke, but in this moment, his body language was as easy to read as a book.

“The shifter who was due to run the combat training programme here at the academy was one of them. Their entire group was found just this morning. Not far from the village. A hunting party came across the bodies.”

He twisted the shirt into a tight ball.

“Elharean doing?” Rowan already knew the answer. The House of Elharean had fallen only weeks earlier. After succeeding in opening what was known as the Seal of Elharean and creating a portal to an unknown realm, their dark sorcerers had unleashed magic the likes of which none of them had ever seen before. The kind that was powerful enough to eradicate their own leader, toppling the throne and leaving a void in its place.

So far, they were all waiting for whoever, or whatever, would inevitably spring up and take the place of the dark power that had attempted to infiltrate and wield control of the realms for countless centuries.

The House of Elharean was an old enemy they knew well. The kind of sorcerers and dark witches who favoured sick and twisted dark magic. Beings who didn’t think twice before they used, abused, and took whatever they desired without mercy.

The Nocturnes had lost their other sister—Lachie’s twin—to those masochistic fucks two hundred years ago.

Rowan would be damned if he allowed other innocents to suffer a similar fate.

“It was hard to tell. Sorcery, for sure. There were markings found on the bodies that we haven’t yet been able to identify. All decapitated with what looked like the use of a blade, not force.”

That ruled out Styge vampires or other shifters in-fighting amongst themselves. Neither of those would bother with weaponry. Claws and teeth would have done the necessary damage. Rowan’s fingers twitched. Muscle memory and magic honed over centuries knew the exact swing and force necessary to master a blade and sever the head of another from their shoulders.

Wounding a supernatural being wasn't enough to kill them. Most would heal rapidly using their own powers. Of course, you could weaken an opponent with magic, hexes, or enchantments… but to truly end their life required severing the head.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d dealt a deathly blow.

But Rowan had other ways of honouring the gruesome tally.

“You know how much it hurts to admit you’re the best we’ve got.” Niall practically choked on his words. “But it’s the truth. We need you to oversee their training. We have an entire class full of student enrolments starting in the morning. Ruby needs this academy to be a success, no?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a long breath.

Fuck. This. Shit.

“So what? I have to teach a bunch of green-fucking-younglings how to fight? Wipe their asses? Blow their noses? What else do you want me to do? Teach them how to spell and count to five?” He snarled and tossed one of his knives at Niall. If he was going to agree to this, at least he could beat the shit out of his brother as compensation.

Niall’s blue eyes sparked with mischief. He tossed the short blade up and caught it with the other hand. Weighing it for a moment before shucking out of his own shirt. The golden-haired fucker had a few inches on him in height, always being the tallest of the Nocturne brothers despite being the youngest, but his muscled frame remained leaner than Rowan’s.

“Smart. At least that way, you’ll be able to mop up the blood quicker.” He’d already eyed where Niall had forgotten to guard his ribs. His arm was held just a fraction high, exposing a weakness to be easily exploited. Too cocky and self-assured, as always.

“Well fuck you too, brother.” Beginning to circle to his left, Niall relaxed into his usual lazy grin. “And no, you don’t have to do anything but teach the class how to fight. Weapons. Combat. Strategy. All the kind of shit that makes your dick hard.” Niall flashed him a wink and gestured in the direction of his trousers. Asshole. “Then, by the end of the year, they’ll graduate into different skill levels. The best of the best will undergo specialist assessments throughout the year. Those who pass will form an elite team, the Astrals, who will be able to pick where they choose to serve across any of the realms.”

An elite team of warriors. At least that was mildly interesting.

Rowan couldn’t imagine they’d be capable of much unless these younglings had been gifted with blessings from the Goddesses. And in his three hundred years, he’d only come across a rare few beings who’d earned his respect on the battlefield.

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