The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

few games. Pin the dagger inside the enemy had always been a favorite.

“Kneel,” Aunt Tamera echoed. She wielded a demonglass dagger, the best tool against angels and Sent Ones. Those who came from the heavens.

Blythe gave a firm nod of encouragement. “Kneel.” She clutched a stake carved from cursedwood, the best defense against demons, witches, vampires and even harpies.

Screw this. Taliyah narrowed her eyes. “I’ll kneel for my General because I respect the position, but only my General.”

“Good answer.” Her mother smiled...and promptly swept Taliyah off her feet with a brutal kick.

She crashed into a too-cold ground that never lost its chill, no matter the season, air abandoning her lungs. Without pause, she scrambled up.

Her aunt’s gut punch sent her tumbling down once again. Stars winked through her vision, but still Taliyah scrambled up. No time to gloat. Blythe darted behind her and dipped low, slicing the tendons in her ankles.

Pain flared as she hit her knees, breathing more difficult. Still she attempted to clamber up.

Never accept a picture of defeat.

She had to pick her poison. The pain of persevering or the agony of regretting. She chose perseverance, every time.

Striving, struggling. Her lower body refused to cooperate, keeping her in a subservient position. Taliyah remained determined. You only lost when you quit.

Panting, fighting harder, she glared up at women who should rejoice that she loved and trusted them. “Someone better tell me what’s going on before I rage.”

Her mother’s eyes glittered in the darkness. “The time has come, daughter. In twelve months, you will leave your family to begin your combat training, just like the harpies before you. Unlike the others, you must train as you are meant to be, not as you are.”

Wait. “This is some kind of ritual for status or something? Well, why didn’t you say so?” The tension drained from her. Until she replayed some of her mother’s words. “How am I meant to be?” Because she liked herself just fine, thanks.

Ignoring her questions, her mother asked, “What do you want most in life, daughter?”

“You already know the answer.” They’d had this conversation many times already.

“Tell me anyway,” her mother commanded, her expression every bit as vicious as her moniker warned.

With black hair, amber eyes and bronzed skin, the Vicious looked as fragile as an elf and as innocent as a Sent One. Even dressed in leather and chain mail, she appeared incapable of cursing, much less killing everyone around her.

The white-haired, blue-eyed, pale Taliyah shared her mother’s delicate bone structure, but nothing more. Well, and her fiery temperament. “I fight to become harpy General.”

These women had drilled the words into her head. At some point, the desire had become her own. For harpies, a General was the equivalent of a queen. The ruler who led her people to greatness. Who wouldn’t want to rule?

Aunt Tamera lifted her chin, just as cold, beautiful and deadly as her younger sister. “What are you willing to do to achieve this goal?”

“Anything.”

“List them,” she insisted.

Any harpy vying to become General must accomplish ten specific tasks. “I will serve in our army for a century and win the Harpy Games.” A series of contests meant to reveal strength, speed and agility. “I will convince the reigning General to do something she doesn’t want to do, and also present her with the head of her fiercest opponent. I’ll oversee a victorious military campaign, negotiate a major truce, steal a royal’s most prized possession, win a battle with my wits alone and sacrifice something I dearly love.”

“You listed nine tasks. What of the tenth?” Her mother arched a brow. “When the time comes, you must challenge the reigning General to battle, no matter who she is or what she means to you. Do you have the courage for this?”

“I do.” As mandated, Taliyah would do it all while remaining a virgin, her body given to her people. Which wasn’t really a hardship, because gross. Boys were big babies. Break their faces, and they cried for days. “Nothing will stop me.”

“Why will you do these things?” Tabitha asked.

“Because I’m Taliyah Skyhawk, and nothing will rob me of my birthright.” Other words her mother had drilled into her head.

As soon as she’d learned to walk, she’d begun to prepare for the privilege of becoming General. Something many harpies attempted, but few accomplished. But, from the very beginning, Taliyah had proved more determined than most.

While others searched for ways around a problem, she grabbed the problem by the balls and squeezed. Others complained when a door of opportunity shut, then waited for another to open; she beat her way through whatever door she pleased with frightening focus.

Everything happened for a reason? Yes. That reason often involved her fists.

“You aren’t just Taliyah Skyhawk.” Her mother offered the barest hint of a grin, as if proud of her. “You will go by many names throughout your lifetimes, daughter. To others, you are the Cold-Hearted. To us, you are forever Taliyah the Terror of All Lands.”

Terror of All Lands. Tal. A grin of her own spread. “I am the Terror of All Lands.”

Her mother dipped her head in affirmation. “You are stronger, faster and far more powerful than other harpies. I made sure of that by handpicking the male I wished to father my first child.”

Procreating by design was a common practice among harpies. A must when you were related to demons and vampires, and everyone referred to your species as “beautiful vultures.” Many armies hunted harpies for sport. Or worse!

Nowadays, the harpies who decided to squirt out a couple of kids selected powerful males who produced more powerful children.

“You speak of the snakeshifter,” Taliyah said, trying to hide her eagerness. Over the years, her mother had only ever shared the man’s species. For so long, she’d wondered...

“He isn’t a snakeshifter. Not entirely. He is the creator of snakeshifters...and he’s only one of your fathers.”

“What?” Um... “What? How many fathers do I have?”

“There are two, and they are brothers, one able to possess the other, something you will