Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
As Roux closed in, the women intoned, “Riddle me this. What fills your life and makes it empty at the same time? Regret. Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha. Ha ha—”
He killed them all with a slash of the dagger. The phantoms tumbled to the floor, where they quickly evaporated. Muttering under his breath, he stalked into his bedchamber.
Blythe followed him, ghosting through the door just in time to witness his beeline for the wet bar. He poured himself an ambrosia-laced whiskey with a trembling hand.
Oh, oh, oh. Trembling?
He poured himself a second glass, then a third, until the trembling tapered off. Only then did he plop onto the foot of a massive bed. Strain bunched his muscles as he propped his elbows on his knees and sank his face into his upraised palms. A picture of defeat.
Blythe thrilled. What had caused this delightful development?
“Get it together,” he mumbled. “You have conquered worlds. Slain royals. Tortured answers out of the most formidable of challengers. There’s nothing you cannot do.”
And now he gave himself a pep talk? Grinning, she flicked the tip of her tongue against an incisor. He should look and sound like this more often. Made her feel less stabby. For a second or two, at least. Just long enough to inventory the sense of familiarity that had only strengthened. Something that made her feel more stabby.
Should she reveal herself or wait a bit longer?
“Hello, daughter.” Her father’s greeting ended the mental debate.
A beaming Erebus approached her side. And oh, how the Astra would have thundered if he’d known his most despised foe stood within murdering distance, tucked safely inside a hidden realm.
As usual, the god wore a long robe the color of pitch. The preferred apparel of the ancients, and exactly like the garment Laban had worn in her first and only hallucination. But she wasn’t going to think about that. White corkscrew curls lay in total disarray around a face with heavily lashed black eyes and a large, hooked nose. Thick dark brows proved stark against Erebus’s fair skin. A constant smirk ruined any hint of attractiveness.
“Unless you come with news, leave,” she commanded. “You can torment the other Astra as much as you wish, but Roux is mine.” Especially in here. His bedroom, her territory. A harpy did not cede territory.
“I do come with news.”
Excitement glimmered to life. “Has the time come?”
He offered a slow nod, as if he savored the action. “It has.”
Well, well. The next blessing task was now set in stone, putting Roux up to bat. Soon, the Astra would journey to a prison world known as Ation to cut out the queen’s heart. A task designed by Erebus and one Blythe approved.
How better to separate the golden giant from his brethren and Taliyah, with no one able to come to his rescue? “I’ll be joining him.”
“Of course you will. That was always the plan.”
Once, female-centric species had shipped vile criminals incapable of rehabilitation to the prison realm. Easy to enter but impossible to escape, even if you possessed the ability to flash. Unless your father was a god, and you were a phantom. At least, Blythe expected one of her unique abilities to provide a way home. If she failed to return, well, it was a risk she must take. For Laban. For vengeance.
For Isla.
Finally, her daughter could begin to heal. Eventually, she would understand and even praise Blythe’s efforts.
“When is he to leave?” she asked, a mental to-do list forming. Pack. Hug and kiss Isla goodbye. Warn her sister. Blythe adored Taliyah, despite the General’s annoying defense of the Astra army, and she wanted the beloved woman prepared for the worst—the loss of the blessing and the beginning of the curse.
“Tomorrow,” Erebus replied. “But you will go now, or you won’t go at all.” He delivered the threat without masking his giddiness.
“Wrong.” Her fingers curled into fists. “I’ll go in an hour.”
Silent, he slinked about Roux’s bedroom, examining the warrior’s things, and Blythe followed, huffing with irritation. First her father looked over a stack of folded leathers resting atop the dresser next to a bowl of fruit. On the desk was a piece of parchment with the same three sentences scrawled over every inch of it. She isn’t mine. But she is. But she isn’t.
Interesting. She who? His concubine? And should Blythe kill the woman just for giggles?
“You are ready for this, are you not?” Erebus asked. “I haven’t pinned my hopes on a mistake, have I?”
“I’m ready,” she grated. He sought to manipulate her. But. She hadn’t lied. She was ready. She’d fed on soul again this morning. She wore the harpy soldier uniform and had two short swords crisscrossed over her back. Daggers hung at her sides and waited inside her combat boots.
“Why delay then?”
“Why move so quickly?” she countered. “You want me at my best, do you not?” Two could play the god’s mind game. If Roux succeeded, completing his task, the entire Astra army would be one step closer to obtaining the blessing. If all triumphed, Erebus earned the curse. An eternal curse this time. No more getting another chance every five hundred years. The outcome of this war forever settled the issue.