Page 28 of Brutal Birthright

His words lashed her, venom and contempt in his tone as he dismissed her like one of his lowly foot soldiers.

With that, he strode off towards where Finnic was busy fussing with the racks of weapons against the far wall and tossed him the blade that she hadn’t even noticed he’d taken out of her shaking hands.

She burned white hot with rage.

Shame scalded her skin and left her cheeks on fire.

That. Godsdamned. Asshole.

As she set off at a jog down the dirt path that wound from the training arena towards the entrance to the forest and began making her way towards the first of the obstacles she would have to scale, she spat curses under her breath.

What a colossal fucking brute.

Chapter 9

Begging was all too common.

Pleading… a frequent occurrence.

Sometimes they pissed themselves. Others would make any number of pathetic attempts to bargain their way to freedom.

Interrogation was an art form, and Rowan always knew exactly how to use his magic to the greatest effect.

In rare cases, like the fae sat bound and gagged in the chair before him, suspects would sob relentlessly. Snot streamed from the man’s nose as he wailed like a newborn.

Knowing the weaknesses of a captive was one part of extracting information. In this case, the blood soaking through the fae’s trouser where the knife jutted out of his thigh, well, it wouldn’t do more than hurt like a bitch.

Fae were slow to heal, amongst the least physically resilient of supernatural beings. Their magic could manifest trinkets and baubles and precious metals with ease. But they’d spent millennia becoming more and more greedy for the vanity of wealth. Using their magic for shit that didn’t matter.

What good were riches in the afterlife?

Material possessions were of no use in the ancestral plane.

The guards had found this prick sniffing around the far reaches of the academy, close to the northernmost extent of the blood wards. He reeked of the House of Elharean, but there was something off about the way he’d been stumbling through the forest, poking his nose where he shouldn’t have been.

Rowan knew he was meant as a distraction.

But a distraction from what exactly?

Those were the details he intended to extract from this snotty, putrid man.

Vomit had long since dried on the floor of the catacombs while Rowan had been patiently waiting to decide whether this fuck-face was worth his time.

“Shit—Goddess—Fuck. You told me he was going to be ready… not still covered in blood.” He twitched at the sound of his eldest brother’s exasperated sigh behind him. Two distinct, familiar presences portaled into the large stone chamber and let out heavy sighs at the same time.

“Fuck’s sake. Is that a kidney?”

Looking down at the fleshy lump on the floor beside his boot, Rowan nudged it through a slick trail of congealed blood back towards its owner.

The man would survive perfectly well without it.

But removing a few organs or body parts usually had the desired effect without needing to waste his magic in the act of interrogation.

Nothing quite like utilising knives to extract the information he required.

“I don’t stroll in and tell you how to run your shit,” Rowan growled and straightened to his full height. Taking in the sight of both Lachie and Niall dressed in midnight black suits, he narrowed his eyes, “You both look like a pair of prized dicks.”

“Told you he’d go for the kidney. Pay up, your majesty.” Niall whacked at Lachie’s shoulder with the back of his hand, then gestured towards his pocket. Taunting him with an old nickname from when their eldest brother used to be the Guardian of the Realm. Not that his role had been a royal designation, but the title alone had provided their younger brother with far too much of an easy target when doing his best to infuriate his brother at every turn. And invariably succeeding. Lachie was a broody asshole and always far too easy for Niall to wind up.

---