The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

Love. She chewed on her bottom lip. “What are we going to do, Roc?” Worry poured from her. So often lately, she’d felt as if she swung from a pendulum, one side panic, the other hope. Mostly, she’d felt as if the weight of the world balanced on her shoulders.

No, that wasn’t true anymore. She no longer carried the weight alone. Roc bore the other half.

“We’re no closer to a solution,” she said. “There’s no way around the curse. For a sacrifice to gain acceptance, someone’s gotta give up something for a better cause. The more the object means to you, the more power your gesture generates.” Before Taliyah, he hadn’t known his brides, and he hadn’t cared for them. He hadn’t longed for their return. “For the first time, the loss of a wife will matter to you. You care, and you’ll long for me after I’m gone. This will be a true sacrifice. That’s why you’ll ascend.”

Today, she’d thought more about her sacrifice. Willingly dying the last death to aid the Astra. Not just Roc, but all Astra. She was their queen now. As much as she owed the harpies, she owed the warlords. Men who would look after her harpies long after she was gone.

“I don’t think you understand, Taya.” Night had fallen, a new storm brewing in the distance. Lightning flashed, highlighting sinister features. Thunder rumbled, shaking the whole realm and every dimension in between, she was sure. Leaves gusted about, spiraling this way and that, as if the world reacted to his mood. “If you die, I will follow.”

“No!” The thought of death repelled her. Die? She loathed the very idea. But she loathed the idea of Roc’s death even more. He’d come to mean so much to her in so little time.

How could he not? The man cherished and challenged her. He made her feel as though she lived for the first time. If she had a need, he met it. If she had a want, he provided it. If she were injured in any way, he raged, then kissed her to make it all better.

She feared for anyone who harmed her, anyone who attempted to harm her and anyone who even briefly considered harming her. “You’re not going to die. I’m not going to die.” They weren’t there yet. “What are we missing?”

A brighter flash of lightning couched his face in an eerie haze of shadow and illumination. When minutes dragged by and he said nothing, she released his hand to pace before him.

“We must be missing something,” she chattered. “But what?”

Roc flashed in front of her. She crashed into his chest, unable to stop her momentum, and he banded his strong arms around her. He held her, just held her, and the frantic energy seeped from her, leaving her exhausted.

She couldn’t fight his embrace and didn’t want to; Taliyah sagged against him, resting her head on his capable shoulder.

Roc didn’t falter. He held her steady.

Finally he spoke, his voice rougher than sandpaper. “Nothing will separate us. Not now, not ever.”

36

One day until the final ceremony. A mere twenty-four hours. No closer to a solution. Standing on his balcony, peering out at the garden—the altar—Roc pulled at his hair, his frustration razor-sharp. He’d failed his wife.

He had no one to blame but himself. He alone had put Taliyah in this situation. Now he cursed his arrogance. Too strong to resist temptation? Him? Hardly. He’d lost the war the moment he’d first spied her; he just hadn’t known it.

He wished Solar were here. He would beg for his Commander’s forgiveness. I’m so sorry, brother. I didn’t know. Forgive me.

Roc hated Erebus. He disdained Chaos. But Roc despised himself the most.

All around, wind blustered and lightning flashed. The newest storm had yet to break. He could relate: he struggled to contain the worst of his emotions, even now.

Erebus had ceased his attacks. But then, he’d had no more phantoms buried in Harpina. They’d all been unearthed and transferred to Taliyah’s control.

“Like there’s really something I can’t do.” Taliyah crouched atop the desk, wearing her battle gear. Mesh leather halter, pleated skirt and metal shin guards. She was on a video call with her sisters and some of her friends, whom she’d barred from her bedroom, demanding to spend this last day with her husband.

Last day. He gripped the railing so tightly, the metal bent.

Taliyah could’ve run from this at any time, saving her life and dooming his. She had the power and means to do so. Yet here she was, fighting for him. Fighting for them. Her courage and loyalty astounded him.

“Guys, enough. Everything’s going to be all right,” she said with a forced smile, and Roc’s chest clenched. “I never accept a picture of defeat, remember? I always save the day. That won’t change because I’m getting boned on a regular basis.”