The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

If she weren’t on the verge of starvation, she might have retorted, Keep ordering me around. It works so well for your brother. Instead, she sighed, shrugged and told him the truth. “I breathed.”

21

Roc blocked every voice from his head and focused on the realm frequency he’d picked up from Taliyah’s hourglass tattoo.

He needed no key to enter a realm, only a link. Had she lied about the location and the friend she’d supposedly met, as he suspected?

He appeared in the so-called Realm of the Forgotten, halfway expecting an ambush. Instead, he stood at the edge of the world—at the end of a winding road that stretched over a churning body of water, leading to a steep cliff with a massive fortress carved into its side. Above it, the inky sky offered no hint of light, save for the freezing fog curling into dizzying swirls.

It was a sky Roc recognized. Part of an original realm rather than the duplicates he created for war. Original realms took ages to make and always carried the DNA of their maker. The secrets hidden in their heart of hearts.

This one had been created by Erebus.

Roc’s hands curled into fists. Whatever world the god birthed, he ruined with unsustainable weather patterns and that swirling fog.

Icy rage gobbled up what remained of his hope, Taliyah’s connection to the dark god confirmed. An hour ago, he’d believed he’d planned for every eventuality. Never had he suspected a phantom possessed the ability to hide in plain sight, driving him insane with lust and possibilities, tricking him, minute by minute.

How had Erebus made someone like Taliyah?

What if she wasn’t made? Could she be his sibling, perhaps? Chaos knew of her. Had even mentioned her by name. But...no. If she belonged to the god’s familial line, Chaos would’ve stopped the wedding. The honorable mentor Roc served wouldn’t send a daughter to her death. Chaos wasn’t like Roc’s parents.

There must be another explanation for Taliyah’s condition.

Someone somewhere possessed answers. Someone always had answers, no truth ever fully erased. If anyone had spoken of Taliyah in dark places, Roc would find out. The Hall of Secrets collected whispers and confessions. A person needed only to sift through the countless voices to learn the most horrifying mysteries. Roux, even in his compromised state, sorted through the deluge better than most.

Focus. Who would Roc find inside the fortress? His nemesis, ready to gloat? He hoped so. He craved a battle.

Materializing in the entry, he paused and took stock. In the distance, a clock ticked and a fire crackled. No footsteps sounded. No voices drifted to indicate Erebus remained.

Roc flashed from room to room, scanning and memorizing, collecting data. There was no sign of Erebus or his phantoms. Not right now, at least. The god had definitely been here, his scent fresh. So was Taliyah’s.

The urge to commit violence consumed him. The master and his puppet had met here, along with two others. Harpies, most likely. Did they discuss Roc’s unprecedented reaction to Taliyah? The stardust he’d left on her skin? Did they laugh at his preoccupation with the woman?

How he cursed the day he’d spotted Taliyah in the market!

Ferreting out her bedroom wasn’t difficult. Frostberries saturated every inch. A stench of betrayal.

Betrayal? When she has only fought to survive?

Yes!

As a matter of duty, he examined this room more intently than the others. What better way to learn more about his enemy? The tidiness of the space fit her personality, but not her origins. Phantoms never worried over making a bed or polishing weapons before hanging them in designated spots. Nor did phantoms care about touches of whimsy. A plaque on the wall read World’s Okayest Sister. A second wall decoration was a painting of stick figures framed in gold. The artist’s name was scribbled.

He stalked into the closet to assess the garments she preferred when she wasn’t tormenting foolish husbands. Combat gear and more combat gear. Nothing for seduction or relaxation.

How sad.

How foolish of him to care.

Phantoms had no feelings. Although...Taliyah might. Had she faked her love of family, her loyalty to the harpies? He had doubts.

So different from the others. Faster, stronger and, yes, smarter. Charming without effort.

How did Erebus command someone like her? Could he? What if she operated outside of the god’s orders, as claimed?

Did she choose to serve him?

Bile rose up in Roc’s chest. What if he won her from—No! He wouldn’t entertain such a temptation.

Obviously, she’d pretended to desire him. Was she truly his gravita?

He rifled through the dresser drawers, where he discovered sexy scraps of barely-there material he refused to imagine her wearing. Part of her arsenal against him?

His fingers curled around a pair of ice-blue panties nearly the same shade as her eyes. If Erebus sought to tie Roc into knots, mission accomplished. Roc hadn’t felt this conflicted since...

His most hated memory rose, and he pressed the panties against the alevala in development. A memory of terrible death, incredible loss and unforgivable betrayals.

He captured and cast out the thought before he was forced to relive every horrifying moment.

Though he wanted to shove the underwear into his pocket, he dropped the garment and flashed to his bedroom in Harpina. He eased onto the foot of his bed.

The trip to the Realm of the Forgotten had done him no good. What was he going to do with Taliyah?

Roc rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. Despite everything, he desired her still, his need burning as hot as ever.

While chained and splayed on a dungeon floor, she’d gazed at him with defiance. How could he not want her back in his arms?

He never should have flashed closer to her. Never should have clasped her throat as she dared him to act. Even now, he fought the urge to return. To splay her lithe body beneath him and touch and kiss until she fully surrendered to his will.

He thought he might do terrible things for such a thing.

What has she