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

Roc would return sooner or later. He would remember the blessing mattered more than his bride’s species. Guaranteed he would glue himself to her side to stop her from meeting with Erebus.

Forget Roc for a sec. The ring presented a major problem. Your crutches became your enemy’s best weapons against you. She’d done herself a huge disservice by relying on a piece of jewelry for the sake of her sanity. At crunch time, she’d had to take a time-out to scream.

Now, when she should be fighting for her life, she needed to use days she didn’t have to train against the screams.

No one would use those screams against her again. Next time, she would be prepared.

“Taliyah! Psst!”

The whisper-yell penetrated her ravenous haze, and she swung her attention to the harpies. Since Ian’s arrival, the girls had avoided speaking with her. They’d only murmured among themselves, recounting history lessons about Erebus and his phantoms.

Mmm. Did someone just ring the dinner bell? As she ran her bottom lip between her teeth, the harpies paled.

“Are you really a phantom?” Mara barked the question.

Taliyah had refused to be straight with Roc, but she wouldn’t be so stingy with her own people. “I am.”

Had Ian’s ears just twitched?

Let him listen and inform his boss.

“So you’re the puppet of harpykind’s first enemy?” Mara demanded. “The god who once slaughtered our people?”

“Not a puppet.” A daughter. She almost said Screw it and revealed her royal connection. So badly she wanted to witness everyone’s reaction. Somehow, she resisted.

“Only a puppet,” Mara reiterated with a nod. “And you think to lead us?” She scoffed. “I’ll die before I serve you.”

“Trust me. I can arrange your death in a matter of minutes.”

“Shout it out later,” someone else piped up. A younger harpy with pale hair and only three stars. “We need an A-plus plan, like, yesterday.”

Everyone looked to her, then Mara, then Taliyah again. What? They expected genius when she struggled to remain upright with her head propped against the wall?

“Roc will return at some point. He’s got to keep me alive for another twenty-eight days.” Despite the lack of windows, her internal clock told her they’d passed midnight hours ago.

“Do you truly believe you can kill these guys?” Three Stars asked, earnest.

Did she? Eight hard-earned stars, two absentee fathers, one indomitable mother and four feral sisters. “I do,” she replied.

“All right. I...I’ll let you have a nibble of me.” A slim brown arm extended through the bars. “Let’s get you strong and racer ready.”

Ian stepped forward, but made no other move toward them.

Taliyah reeled at the staggering sacrifice. Then the girl doubled over and screamed in agony. Her knees gave out.

The others rallied around her, cheering her on as she received her fourth star.

Taliyah’s chest swelled with pride. Another harpy’s win always thrilled her, inspiring her to reach for greater heights, reminding her of why she fought so hard to lead harpykind. Strength like this must be protected and nurtured. But...

Why couldn’t this be enough? Why did dissatisfaction remain a permanent part of her makeup? What did the Commander bring to her table that others didn’t? Why did she care that he suffered bad dreams?

Why did she want to soothe him?

When the cheering tapered, the newly starred, beaming harpy reached through the bars once again. “Order up.”

“Keep your soul,” she said with a small smile. “I have faith that Roc will provide. Wait and see.” He wouldn’t want to, but still he’d do it. He needed her well.

He could take his disgust and shove it.

New resentment welled. Perhaps she didn’t miss her husband after all.

Ticktock, ticktock. Roc sat at the edge of his bed. Hours before, Silver had discovered eleven soldiers with ties to Erebus. Ties the god had created days before the Astra first came to Harpina.

As soon as Roc had locked the males in the dungeon of the duplicate realm to await punishment, he’d come here.

One after the other, warlords had requested a telepathic conversation about the phantom. He had issued denials and watched the clock on the wall. Seething. Waiting.

The moment 6:00 a.m. arrived, he rose and showered, removing the alevala from his chest. How Solar must be laughing in his grave right now! Without question, the former Commander had once felt as if he stood before his own personal version of paradise, the beauty of it stealing his thoughts, pleasure beckoning...until the whole world erupted into flames.

How many times had Roc discounted the man’s obsession with his siren? How often had he advised his leader to ignore her appeal and pick someone else? Now he wrestled with his own desires, unable to take his own advice.

At least he’d decided what to do with Taliyah. An easy verdict to render, since he’d had no other option.

Roc would keep her at his side, always.

Could he handle twenty-four hours a day with an unpredictable phantom-harpy? No. Could he allow more secret meetings with her master? Also no. Sneaking other phantoms into the palace ended now.

She would gloat about his predicament, just like Erebus. She’d probably even guessed his strategy. Had probably constructed a counterstrategy to create problems with his men—with his body. She specialized in his sexual torment, after all.

Erebus chose well.

Did Roc have the strength to resist Taliyah, if she turned up the heat? He didn’t know. Even now, filled with hate and repugnance, his body craved hers. The rest of him anticipated their next sparring match.

For the first time, he operated without a fully prepared battle plan, complete with a backup and a backup to the backup. He had to take this minute by minute.

Overflowing with dread, he dressed. He opted to forgo a shirt and selected a pair of leathers. He slid his feet into combat boots. Rather than strap up with multiple daggers, he sheathed a small three-blade at his ankle. Give Taliyah easy access to a weapon able to end her life prematurely? No.

Nothing left to do but collect her...

How had she fared throughout the night? He didn’t want to care. He