Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Neeka was done setting herself up for rejection. Done with Rathbone. As of this moment, she’d washed her hands of him.
“Stay away from him,” she croaked, careful to articulate each word. Ugh. Still protective of the guy. Such a fool!
“If you want to save him from my wrath,” the General said, putting pressure on the worst of Neeka’s wounds to staunch the bleeding, “you’ll have to strengthen and stop me.”
“You cannot bring the King of Agonies here.” Azar evinced incredulity. “What if he sent the oracle ahead with the express purpose of gaining entrance?”
“First of all, I can bring anyone I wish to my palace. Second, if that’s the case, feel free to attack him at your leisure once my friend is healed.”
A shockingly fierce battle growl left Neeka. Despite her weakness. Despite her disappointment in the king. She didn’t want his blood. Didn’t want his help or his presence. Didn’t want anything to do with him ever again. No thank you.
Yet she said, “Stay. Away. From. Rathbone.”
“Keep her alive,” Taliyah commanded the Astra, ignoring her. “If she’s dead when I return, you’ll soon join her. That, I promise you.”
24
Kill the oracle?
Slay her?
End her for good to save myself?
The questions played on a loop inside Rathbone’s mind as he paced near the head of the River Styx. A desolate clearing where spontaneous fires sprayed from cracks in impacted soil. Trees no longer budded. The sky alternated between smoky and very smoky.
“Who am I supposed to believe?” he asked the former king. “Erebus or Neeka? He’s never lied to me. She has.” Betray me once and lose everything you hold dear. Betray me twice... “And what of Lore?” The ex-wife he must free or condemn. “Is she everything you claimed?”
Ripples moved through the water without the aid of wind, and he halted, halfway expecting an attack instead of an answer. A school of fish in a multitude of colors swam to the surface, drawing together, using their different colors to create a face. Styx. He laughed with glee.
Yeah, Rathbone deserved that. “Do you hate me more than you want her punished?”
The fish swam apart, then drew together again to spell the word deciding.
Once again, the fish parted and reassembled, showcasing another face—Neeka’s. The placement of the red scales made her look as if she was splattered with blood. The words dying won floated beneath her.
His brow furrowed. “Dying won?”
More ripples through the water, as if Styx had just heaved his own sigh. Some of the fish traded places to turn won into now.
Dying now.
Rathbone roared. Neeka, dying? Get to her! Without delay, he teleported to the island where he’d left her. He wasn’t fond of the oracle, but he didn’t want her dead, even to save himself.
Panic stirred when he found no sign of her. Lapping waves had washed away her footprints. His guts twisted. No need to go searching the rest of the island. She’d taken her chances in shark-infested waters to reach the harpy palace, hadn’t she? And she’d done it while wearing a wing pinner he’d purposely left on her.
Air abandoned his lungs in a rush. She was supposed to stay here and consider the error of her ways!
He knew her. Should have realized... Neeka might not defend herself against emotional hurts, but she always met physical danger head-on.
He plowed a hand through his hair, his part in this whole debacle dawning. No wonder she hadn’t told him the truth about her visions and goal. Look what he’d done. Add in his threats on day one and his continued habit of putting his quest above her life, and she’d had no other choice but to keep secrets.
She’d done the wise thing, and he’d punished her for it. Guilt attacked, ravaging his lungs.
Get to her. Rathbone stashed the orb and emerged on the other side of the sea. The usually crowded beach was deserted, not a single harpy nearby. Where had they all gone? And why?
On the hunt, he flashed his way to the palace. Searching, searching. Every common area was deserted, harpies nowhere to be found. Then he appeared in the overly crowded foyer, and the entire population seemed to be squeezed together, everyone speculating about “the Unwanted” and whether she was or was not a traitor.
Desperation drove him forward. He shoved his way through to the front—Horror nearly drilled him to his knees. Neeka sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood; Azar stood nearby, his arms crossed over his middle as he stared off in the distance.
Claws extended from Rathbone’s nails, rage using every other emotion as fuel. “Did you do this to her?”
Azar flipped up his gaze, spotted him, and shrugged. “From what I hear, you did.”
Rathbone flinched as gasps sounded around him. Harpies backed away, chanting, “Fight, fight, fight.”
He ignored them as he fixated on the oracle...she was so still. Too still. Shouts of denial echoed in his head. Not again. Neeka couldn’t be dead. He needed her. The world needed her. She added so much flavor.