The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

Was this a test?

He unsheathed and tossed several daggers upon the bed. Oh, yeah. Definitely a test.

“If you’re planning to put me into hibernation for the month—”

“I’ll take your life, harpy, but I won’t take your right to choose your end. Surrender or fight me. You decide.”

Never in a million years would she admit this aloud, but he’d just made her heart leap. His ferocity convinced her he’d meant what he’d said. He was offering her a fair fight.

The best warrior would win.

Okay, so, that was kind of burn-the-house-down sexy. Peering at him, considering the challenge and the victory, she felt every pulse in her body, blood rushing through her veins as if a dam had burst wide open. Not a hint of dissatisfaction.

Leaving his weapons on the bed, he headed for the door, grating, “I’ll be eating in the dining room in an hour. If you’d like to join me, you may. If you’d prefer to avoid me, you may. As with everything, the choice is yours. What you won’t do is surprise me. I’m prepared, whatever you decide.” He exited, shutting the door behind him.

Where was he going and why? She would find out.

While she yearned to scour the palace for Blythe and Isla, she had to seize any opportunity to learn more about her opponent.

A pre-General had to make tough calls, putting the good of the people above everything, even family. Besides, if Alaroc had told the truth, Nissa was the sole casualty. Which meant Blythe and Isla were resting. Healing, even.

Maybe she’d luck out and Alaroc would reveal a key to the duplicate realm. What if he revealed a weakness or vice? Or lied? He might be on his way to his concubine even now.

I must know.

This phantom was going to risk big and spy in a palace filled with phantom assassins...

6

Roc could’ve flashed to the throne room, appearing in an instant, but he opted to walk and ponder the mystery of Taliyah Skyhawk. The harpy might prove a tad more tempting than his other brides. The languid way she moved. The inherent rasp in her voice. The permanent glint of wickedness in those ocean-water eyes. She possessed a core of iron, and he found himself more intrigued than before. A strange state he didn’t like... because he liked it.

He was a male who had reduced war to a series of chores and checklists, winning hundreds of worlds without a problem or hardship. Yet a harpy dared to hold on to a dagger, forcing him to break her wrist or retreat, and he developed a permanent hard-on?

The look she’d given him as he’d squeezed her wrist had shocked him. Taliyah the Terror of All Lands had very clearly preferred to lose a hand than a battle.

He should have followed through. He’d warned her; empty threats would only make things worse for him. But... What right did he have to punish such bravery?

Now, however, she’d earned gloating rights. She’d forced an Astra to retreat. The Commander, no less. On day one. During hour one. Twice! As her frostberry scent had invaded his nose, she’d left him trembling like a lad. He’d reveled as a flush spread over her skin, his heat chasing away her cold.

Where was his titanium core?

From now on, he needed to be stern with Taliyah. No more touching her. No more kissing, no matter how badly he craved her sweetness. The woman schemed to oversee his murder, nothing more. Who wouldn’t want to save their people and lead the Astra? He fully expected an ambush before the end of the day. Perhaps even an impressive ambush.

What would she do?

Steps suddenly lighter, Roc entered the throne room. The place was empty, as expected. Ian had the unique ability to flash entire armies at once. An ability he used each time Roc shepherded a new bride away. The soldiers were transported beyond the trinite wall, allowing the rest of his men to deposit the rejected harpies into a cell in the dungeon.

The wall acted as a first line of defense against Erebus and his phantoms. When combined in such large quantities, fireiron, demonglass and cursedwood emitted waves of energy, creating a dome-like sphere of protection impossible for the living dead to bypass.

—Ian.—Roc projected. Astra often spoke into each other’s minds, either collectively or individually. Sender’s choice.

—Yes, Commander. You desire your report, I’m sure.—His brother’s tone carried bite today.

Understandable. Once the first Commander, now the least ranked. Though eons had passed, he’d never forgotten the taste of power. Who could? The weddings served as a reminder of what Ian had lost.

His brother told him, —Halo now patrols the wall. No sign of soulsuckers yet. Silver is working on your personal project, and Roux guards the harpies in the dungeon. I’m working on palace fortifications.—

Halo Phaninon, the Ringed One, was a disciplined warrior and master strategist. With an array of mystical objects, he kept watch over the entire realm, both inside and outside the palace.