The Warlord by Gena Showalter (free ebook reader for pc .txt) 📕

asleep, she’d rid herself of the weakness. Feeding and feeding and feeding. All would be well.

Her wings rippled with anticipation. If everything went according to plan, her widowhood kicked off before sunrise. If she merely managed to fatigue him, so be it. She had plenty of time to ensure her win.

Snaking around a corner, she entered a hallway with six doors. Three on the left, three on the right. No sign of her sister or niece among the sleepers but... Hmm, that’s new.

At the other end of the hall, someone had framed the windows with... What was that? Some kind of stone? She glided closer to the arching pane of stained glass.

She reached out, the hairs on her nape standing at attention. The substance, whatever it was, was gunmetal gray and jagged, pulsing with energy. Upon contact, a thousand invisible bugs crawled over her skin, biting and stinging. A sensation she recognized.

Taliyah faltered, her stomach roiling. The Astra had bordered the window with a combination of fireiron, demonglass and cursedwood. Trinite, Roc had called it. My kryptonite.

Well, after she finished her search, she’d just have to even the playing field.

Determined, Taliyah headed for the last room on tonight’s list. The library, an enormous, three-tiered room filled with countless books about harpies and the many different species they warred with. Among other things. The first floor gleamed like a lake of fire, the second like a layer of ice, the third a combination of the two. Flanking the heart were statues of past Generals.

With the crystal in hand, she discovered row after row of cots lined the library in the duplicate realm. Harpies slept here, there, everywhere. Still no sign of Blythe, Isla or a key.

Disappointed but more determined, she switched her efforts to Roc’s destruction. Taliyah rigged a chandelier to fall within the next twenty-four hours, messed with electrical wires to fry whoever flipped the switches and loosened select balcony rails.

As she finished up, a short, dark-skinned brunette and a tall, fair-skinned blonde with curlers in her hair rounded a bookshelf.

Concubines.

Taliyah paused. Dressed in bathrobes, the pair perused the vast array of tomes while drinking canned soda from a straw and whispering between themselves.

Could they be used for intel?

Approaching, she tried for a friendly greeting. “Hey, guys. It’s me, your Commander’s new bride or whatever. How about a chat?”

In unison, they drew up short. Neither projected fear. Fools. She’d changed out of her dress and into battle regalia. Roc’s discarded weapons were strapped all over her body.

Yeah, she’d sneaked into the neutral zone before beginning her hunt. He’d been long gone.

“You are Taliyah, yes?” the brunette asked.

“Yep. The one and only.” How loyal were they to the Astra? Could they be bought? “What’re your names?”

The brunette introduced herself first. “I’m Teriella. Teri.”

The blonde—the one who resembled Taliyah—took a sip of soda and belched into her hand. “I’m Kindred.”

Up close, Taliyah clocked their differences. Kindred was a couple of inches shorter, with pointy ears. Her rosy skin resembled polished pearls. An elf, then. She smelled like a lilac garden.

“We thought we’d grab some books,” Kindred said, “but we’ll leave you to your...whatever you’re planning.”

“Stay. I can help you find the best books. Is there a particular subject you’re interested in? We have a couple shelves devoted to romance novels, if that’s your thing.”

“Lookit, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but you aren’t winning us over to your side.” Teri edged away. “We won’t help you escape, and we won’t harm our men on your behalf.”

“As if I need help.” She kept her focus on Kindred. “You are in love with Roc?”

The elf laughed. “Lady, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m living my dream life. Fierce protectors, good sex and great friends. I’m not giving it up for a dead harpy walking.”

Taliyah shrugged. “Go ahead, bet on the wrong horse. This year’s participation trophy is the Astra’s head.”

Teri tugged on the other girl’s arm. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t be talking to her.”

Well, good riddance. She had better things to do.

As Taliyah set traps for the Astra in other rooms, her empty stomach folded into itself. More strength drained. Soon, the sun would rise. Surely Roc had returned. Surely he slept.

Her mouth watered. So hungry. Before she got busy with the Astra, she might as well collect the gun every General stashed in the library. Everyone needed a plan B.

She rushed back and scanned the area. Alone. Excellent. Taliyah approached a life-size portrait of Nissa that hung at eye level. In it, the former General crossed her arms over her chest, a semiautomatic resting against a shoulder.

Can already smell the gunpowder. Another scan of the area. She reached out, her hand ghosting through the image. Not because she had misted; she hadn’t. Harpies often traded mercenary work for magic. Any harpy could do this. When her fingers curled around cold, hard steel, she grinned.

Bullets might not kill Roc, but they’d definitely slow him down. Pair the gun with the crossbow and daggers he’d left on his bed and she could do major damage.

Once she’d sheathed the gun, she sneaked into the proper hallway as quietly as possible. The guards posted at the master’s door earlier were long gone.

Because her room offered a private entrance, she didn’t have to pass through Roc’s. Taliyah set the gun on the nightstand, alongside the other weapons she’d pilfered from him. Had he even noticed their loss? In the small time she’d known him, he’d treated his arsenal as disposable. The exact wrong thing to do, according to Tabitha Skyhawk’s school of successful warring.

Her mother used to tell her, “When your strength fails, your weapons excel.”

Roc’s strength was about to fail him.

He’s gonna taste so good. Trembling with a mix of hunger and excitement, she settled on the bed, boots and all, preparing to do a little soulsucking.

Soulsucking, a term often used with great derision, interchangeable with feeding. It occurred physically or mystically, diner’s choice. Most days, Taliyah preferred live and in person, body to body.