The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

Another snort. “Baby, I’m a walking glitter bomb. I sparkle from head to toe, which makes it a little hard to intimidate my foes and my people, by the way. But okay, you talked me into it.” Smiling, she smoothed her hand over his cheek. “I love seeing my stardust on your skin.”

Powered by his soul and her return as a Goddess General, she’d begun producing a stardust of her own. He loved it, too. More than he could ever say. “I want more.”

He geared up to flash them.

“Wait,” she said. “I want to try something.”

He didn’t flash, but the next thing he knew, he was sitting at the edge of his bed, Taliyah reclined in his lap.

A laugh sprang from her. “I did it! I flashed us both. Because I’m amazing!”

“That you are.” What other powers had she developed with her ascension? They would find out...later. Roc divested his wife of her stunning scarlet dress and set out to show her just how much he loved her. He was living a life he’d never dreamed possible, loved beyond reason, accepted and supported by a warrior of incomparable resilience.

Whatever came next, they would overcome. Together, they were unstoppable.

Read on for a sneak peek at New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter’s next thrilling and sexy new novel, Heartless, the first book in her Immortal Enemies series.

Heartless

by Gena Showalter

1

Astaria, the fae realm

Midnight Court

“How dare he!” Kaysar the Unhinged One, King of the Midnight Court, Ruler of the Nightlands and Master of the Dusklands, banged his fist on the arm of his throne, an elaborate seat made from stalks of poisonvine. Bloodred flowers with sharp, jagged petals bloomed along the upper arch, perfuming the air with a sweet, intoxicating fragrance. “Something must be done.”

Prince Jareth of the Winterlands had lied to him. Kaysar despised liars with every fiber of his being. He despised the prince for a thousand other reasons, but the lies... In his estimation, there was no worse crime.

He goes too far!

A new shout brewed at the back of his throat. If you couldn’t own your evil, you shouldn’t commit the act.

With one metal-tipped hand, he braced to rise, ready to strike at Jareth this very moment if he were here. With the other hand, he sank his metal claws into the poisonvine, holding himself in a seated position as drops of venom flowed from the punctures.

“Tell me again, word for word, changing nothing,” he commanded his seer. “Fill my ears with his crime once more.”

“Word for word.” Her tone said what she didn’t. Must I? “Very well.” Evincing dread, she repeated, “I’m so sorry to tell you this, Majesty, and please don’t shout, but Prince Jareth approaches your—” she cringed and braced for impact “—border.”

“How dare he!” The words exploded from Kaysar once again, his companion flinching.

“Perhaps you should study your map, Majesty,” she suggested, using the same soothing tone a mother might use with an upset child. “You wish to study your map, yes?”

His map. He tensed before he softened, melting into his throne. “Yes, I wish to study my map.” He plucked his fingers free of the stalk and traced a claw along different lines in his palm, the way he used to do as a boy. He welcomed the sting, the pool of blood.

Over the centuries, he’d memorized the layout of Astaria and each of the five fae courts, yet the art of creating a forest-specific map still calmed him. This was his one remaining link to his sister, after all. If he’d ever really had a sister. Sometimes he wondered if he’d invented her. The angel who’d kept him sane during the worst year of his existence. Well, somewhat sane.

As he worked, etching crimson lines over his forearm, he made new, deeper cuts, using torn skin as markers. The newest stings barely registered as tension seeped from him.

“Majesty?”

The softly spoken question snagged his attention, and he snapped up his head. He narrowed his eyes and focused on the woman standing before him. Though she had probably mentioned her name at some point, he knew her only as Eye, a beauty he’d saved from goblins however long ago. Months? Eons? Time had lost all meaning to Kaysar, one day the same as any other. He awoke and thought of ways to punish his foes, then he actually punished his foes. His methods might vary, but his goals remained the same.

Surrounded by onyx walls and torchlight, Eye wore an ivory gown, appearing as ethereal as a dream. A glorious mane of sable hair framed a delicate face, her skin a shade lighter than her rich brown eyes. As a seer, she could meld her mind with another’s to reveal whatever images she’d beheld in a vision. Things that had taken place in the past, things that were taking place in the moment or things that would take place at a future date.

Pushing the words through clenched teeth, he told her, “What is my one and only rule for you, Eye?”

She gulped. “I’m not to interrupt you. But if I must, there are two instances I’m not to do so, even if I’m dying.”

“That’s right.” The woman had more privileges with him than anyone else in existence, but there were lines even she was not allowed to cross! “Name those instances, if you please.”

Shifting from one foot to the other, she admitted, “When you’re studying your map that isn’t a map. And every moment of every day.”

Map that isn’t a—He flicked his tongue over an incisor. Was it his fault others couldn’t read the thing?

As a boy, he’d had no spare money for ink and paper, so he’d adapted. As often as he and Viori had made a frantic dash from one village to another to avoid being punished for simply surviving, he’d needed a map. The Forest of Many Names was an infamous labyrinth known for gobbling up visitors and spitting out their bones. Eventually.

Would he one day discover Viori’s bones?

His lungs squeezed,