The Warlord Gena Showalter (primary phonics TXT) 📖

Harpy General, and I’m the granddaughter of Chaos. You will show me the honor owed to me. Kneel.”

He peered at her for a long while, fuming—but he also knelt.

“Good boy. This might sting a bit.” Charged with confidence and Roc’s electric energy, Taliyah pushed her spirit from her body. Cold washed over her, and she whisked to Roux, where she hovered directly in front of him.

His soul glowed as brightly as Roc’s, but cracks fractured the shell. Interesting. She stepped into his body without an obstacle in the way. He’d truly dropped his shields, as ordered.

I was born to rule. She bumped up against his soul and hissed. Ouch! Not cracks after all, but lightning zaps. Gritting her teeth, she sank deeper into his conscious.

“Blythe,” she called. “Isla. I’m here. Follow my light and reach for me. I’ll do everything else. Isla, help your mother. Blythe, you’ll both be safe, I swear it. I’m not sure what you’ve witnessed, but you have my word the Astra won’t hurt any of us.”

Finally! A cold brush against her fingertips. Taliyah clasped onto her sister and gently separated her from the Astra.

34

Three of Erebus’s kinsmen lived under Roc’s roof and protection. Harpy-phantoms filled his dungeon, the number growing daily. The non-phantoms worked with his army. He had his wife in his bed every night. He knew utter joy and the most gut-wrenching panic in equal measure. Joyous one minute, despairing the next.

Perhaps he was a drama queen.

Taliyah studied all the time, obsessed with sacrifices, the motives behind them, and the meanings. She wasn’t sleeping. Even now, she tossed and turned in his arms, his coos of comfort doing little to soothe her. He’d hoped the rescue of her sister and niece would calm her nightly terrors. Alas.

Mother and daughter had moved into Taliyah’s old room, where they’d stayed for the past two days, sleeping and recovering. The mother’s condition continued to decline. She’d attempted to eat fruit from the Tree of Skulls thrice, but even that she vomited. She needed nourishment from her consort, but he’d died during the invasion, killed by Roux.

Roc didn’t know how to help the woman. He didn’t know how to help Taliyah.

Must save her. His objective had not changed. Living with her was a drug he couldn’t quit. Roc loved seeing his wife’s things strewn everywhere. Since he’d returned the key to the Realm of the Forgotten, she’d brought her treasures over. A vast array of weapons. Clothes she hung next to his in the closet. Something called a lava lamp without actual lava. An autographed photograph of Taliyah and a human male named Jason Momoa, taken at something she called a con.

He’d wanted to toss the thing, but she looked too cute as she pretended to be a human who pretended to be an immortal version of herself. The signature? Taliyah’s. She’d said, “I’ll mail it to him as soon as the restraining order is lifted.”

The tasteful nudes she’d once suggested now hung on the walls of their bedroom, portraits that featured Taliyah herself. To stimulate his creativity, as she’d put it. When he glanced at them, he smiled. And hardened.

She’d placed a bottle of Sex Panther cologne on their mantel, as if it were a treasure. Upon his first and only sniff, he’d wondered if two panthers had actually peed in it.

He’d asked her, “Why do you have this?”

“First of all, we have this, and it’s for our street cred, obviously. Speaking of, how do you feel about getting my name tattooed on your only available blank canvas? I’m talking about your penis, in case it’s not clear. And my full name. I promise I’ll only ask you to whip it out and show the relatives on holidays, my birthday and every get-together from now until the end of eternity, and only then.”

Her words acted as a kick in the gut. She still planned their future.

A future they might not have.

Agony ripped through him. She was the guiding star he’d needed for so long. Icy with others, even as she melts for me.

How could he destroy her? How could he curse his men? The questions plagued him. They plagued his wife, as well; he knew they did.

His spies had learned nothing of value. Roc had called in every favor from every god who owed him, the number vast, but none had provided an answer to his dilemma.

Taliyah jolted upright with a loud gasp, startling him. “I know where they are.” Tremors shook her as she scrambled from the bed and tugged his discarded shirt over her head, covering her nakedness.

“Who?” he asked, throwing his legs over the side of the mattress and standing. He reached for his pants.

“The rest of the harphantoms.” With that, she vanished.

“Taliyah!” He loved having an independent wife; he didn’t hate it sometimes. Trying not to worry, he finished dressing and flashed from room to room, on the hunt. All the while, he shouted commands to his men.

—Sound the alarm and prepare the armies. Something has happened. What, I don’t know. Prepare for anything. Alert me the moment you spot Taliyah.—

Despite their feelings toward her, they issued speedy agreements. He knew many fretted about his obvious love for the woman and debated whether or not he would perform the sacrifice...and what they would do if he didn’t. If they would take matters into their own hands, as Roc once had.

Wonderful. Another internal battle. His panic and joy, always at war. He was raw inside, his aggression always high.

Taliyah was nowhere in the palace. He braced to flash into the Realm of the Forgotten when Halo’s voice stopped him.

—Found her. She’s in the marketplace, near the Tree of Skulls.—

Roc switched gears, landing where he’d last stood with her. His eyes darted. She knelt on the ground, her body heaving as she pounded her fist into dirt. Great, agonizing sounds rose from her.

“Taya!” He flashed to her side and slung an arm around her. “What is this? What happened? Tell me!”

Her sobs continued.