“A star,” Ophelia said, her expression going dreamy soft. “Yes. I will do this.”
He rubbed the center of his chest, where pressure gathered. To qualify for the position of General, a harpy must earn a total of ten stars, each designated for a specific accomplishment.
He ran the requirements through his mind—things Ophelia planned to do. Serve the army for at least a century. Win the Harpy Games, a series of contests. Convince the reigning General to do something she didn’t want to do. Present that General with the head of her fiercest foe. Oversee a victorious military campaign. Negotiate a major truce. Steal some royal immortal’s most prized possession. Win a battle with her wits alone. Sacrifice something she dearly loved and lastly, defeat the reigning General in battle.
The risks she would face. Risks she would take despite already dying on three separate occasions.
“Tell me why you planned to send me away.” She crossed her arms, mimicking Halo’s usual stance. “Is it because the Commander killed my sister? Am I to be punished for his crime?”
Ice glazed the General’s pale blue irises. “Do not lie to me again, soldier. I won’t just banish you from Harpina, I’ll revoke your citizenship.”
“What are you talking about?” Ophelia snapped. “How did I lie?”
“Roc didn’t kill your sister, and you know—”
“He most certainly did!”
“He killed your mother.”
“What? No.” Ophelia shook her head. “I don’t know where you got your information, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Nissa was General during the years of the virginity requirement. I’m confident of this because she loved to remind me of it.” A tremor shook her. “She had the strength to say no to temptation. I didn’t. Our mother died a week after giving birth to me.”
Taliyah opened and closed her mouth. She looked to Roc, who shrugged. Swallowing, she faced Ophelia, who’d grown tenser by the second. With an astonishingly gentle tone, the General said, “I’m sorry, Ophelia. I thought you knew. Nissa is—was your mother. I found the record hidden in her room. I confirmed it with her journal. In one of the passages, she claimed she confessed the truth to you.”
“No.” Ophelia shook her head again. “No. The record is the lie. The journal too. Nissa would never...she wouldn’t... Why would she not tell me something like that? There’s no reason good enough.”
Halo drew her closer, held her tighter. He didn’t like this. At all. Bombs were exploding inside his chest. Or was his heart pounding against his ribs?
His harpymph calmed, at least, settling in his arms.
“I had the birth record mystically tested, and... I’m sorry, Ophelia,” Taliyah repeated, “but it’s valid.”
“Well then.” She wrapped her arms around Halo, as if she wished to be absorbed by him. An action that begged, Don’t let go. “If it’s valid.”
He repositioned, crossing his arms over her shoulders, and nuzzled his cheek into hers. If he could meet her needs, aid her in some way...as satisfying as bedding her.
“I’m sorry for the pain I caused with my delivery,” the General said, stacking papers that didn’t need to be stacked.
“Don’t, um, worry about it.” Ophelia cleared her throat and motored on. “I’ll never be your consort’s biggest fan, but I’m not out for his blood or anything. For the record, I would have made a horrifyingly fierce adversary.”
“Yes. Well. Let’s set all personal matters aside for the moment.” Taliyah cleared her throat as well. “I believe we all have a task to dominate.”
17
Shock kept Ophelia in a daze. Perhaps the reason Halo remained at her side during the endless meeting with General Taliyah and Commander Roc.
The conclusion of the hours-long briefing came only after the freeze. Halo flashed Ophelia to a private, candlelit feast in the royal dining room. To be invited here, where only the strongest of harpykind and their loved ones dined, was a true honor.
An honor her sister—her mother had never extended to her.
A lump lodged in her throat, clogging her airway. At any other time, Ophelia thought she might have gawked at the furnishings. Today she just didn’t care. She shuffled to her seat. Her head hung, and her shoulders drooped.
Halo held out her chair for her and claimed the seat beside her, then filled her plate with delicacies. “To earn each bite,” he said, so gentle she almost couldn’t fathom it, “you have only to breathe. All right?”
“I can do that, I guess,” she mumbled. But she couldn’t quiet her mind.
Nissa was her mother. The irritating sibling who had yelled at her again and again for oh, so foolishly throwing away her future had given birth to her. Nissa had bedded the nymph, not the dead mother the General had ridiculed on multiple occasions.
All Mother had to do was say no. N.O. It’s not that difficult. Look at me. No. No!
Queasy, Ophelia used the fork to push her “earned” food around the plate. What sucked most? Despite the hypocrisy of it all, she hated that she’d upset Nissa. It was one thing to disappoint your sister and quite another to disappoint your mother.