The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

“Tell me what happened with Chaos,” she requested. Morning sunlight poured through a crack in the curtains, and she barely stifled a groan. A new day meant a new check on their thirty-day calendar.

Only thirteen days remained.

“He...betrayed me,” Roc croaked. “He betrayed us both. We are to be his sacrifice, so he may ascend.”

She cringed. “Roc, I’m sorry for this. I am.” Did her grandfather’s betrayal suck for her? Yeah. Of course. But she’d never met the man. He’d exhibited no real interest in her, and that was his loss. But this really sucked for Roc. He’d loved and admired Chaos.

“I thought he cared for us. All the while, he did to us what I did to my brides. I am reaping everything I sowed.” Bitterness laced his tone. “How do I fix this, Taliyah? I’ve racked my mind to no avail.”

Well. No need to stone and ash her. His anguish was killing her quite nicely. “We’re going to overcome, Roc. We’re going to make him pay. And we’re going to have a good life together. I’ll allow nothing less.”

He tightened his hold on her. “How can you want a life with the man who once planned to kill you?”

“For starters, I have yet to meet a man who doesn’t want to kill me.”

A strangled laugh. A sharp inhalation of breath, as if he couldn’t believe he’d found humor in the situation, even for a moment. “I want to show you the alevala. The one I remove.” The torment he projected...the grief. “You haven’t seen the lengths I’ve gone to ensure we receive the blessing, and you should. Today, you will learn about the man you’re fighting for. If you decide he’s not worth the effort, I...will understand. Just give me a chance to change your mind. Please.”

Taliyah jolted. Please? He’d actually asked nicely for something outside of sexual gratification? She gulped and cupped his bearded cheeks. “Baby, I know you’ve had a rough day and all, but this poor-me attitude gets two thumbs down. You buck up, and you buck up now. I chose you as my consort for a reason. There’s nothing in your past that will change my mind. You’re worth every effort, I promise you. Okay?”

He gazed at her with haunted eyes. “Look, then. See.”

She wanted to...and she kind of dreaded to, but she clasped the hem of his shirt and lifted, baring his chest to her view...

Out of habit, he covered the area with his palm. He realized what he’d done, however, and fisted his hand. Slowly, he lowered his arm and gripped the arm of the chair.

Taliyah strove for an encouraging expression as she studied the area. No longer a blank canvas or dotted with the beginnings of an image. The alevala writhed in all its horrifying beauty.

An expected spike of dizziness, a shroud falling over her mind. A memory weaving into her thoughts, taking shape... Here we go...

Roc stands before a lovely woman with hair as black as night, skin a magnificent shade of umber and eyes a rich brown. A sheer white dress billows from her slight form. An exact replica of what the Amazon wore in the first vision. A vision Taliyah had seen from Roc’s point of view. This time, she was removed from him and purely a spectator. Did he feel that way, when he thought of this moment?

“Please don’t do this,” the woman cries, clutching her belly. The altar blocks her escape, the usual crowd in attendance. The man in the black robe, a smiling Erebus and an army of motionless phantoms wearing widow’s weeds. “I’ve done nothing but love him.”

Taliyah almost felt the frigid bite of wind past, almost scented the array of roses blooming from surrounding shrubs. They occupied a garden similar to the one in Harpina, with four full moons twining eerie pink light with gray shadows.

“We won’t lose our Commander because of you,” Roc bellows.

Beyond them, pained grunts and groans mixed with broken cries—war’s melody.

Taliyah scanned the scene. There. Eighteen other Astra battled a single male. She recognized the four she’d seen with Roc, plus three she’d spotted in the crystal. The others were new. They fought a madman willing to strike anyone in his path. Rage and desperation accompanied his every blow.

This was combat at its most brutal. Brother against brother. Swords and other weapons swung. Flesh ripped. Limbs got hacked, while organs were sliced and diced. Blood arced through the air, creating ribbons of crimson.

Some of the warlords glowed, reminding her of stars. Others possessed iridescent rings around their bodies. Weapons? A type of armor? Two warlords blazed with literal flames, while a few spewed blue-tinged ice from their fingers. The rest cloaked themselves in some kind of thick cloud.

“Solar,” someone calls to the one fighting so fervently. “Stop this!”

He—Solar—screams, “Don’t touch her, Roc! She’s mine. Do you hear me? Don’t touch her!”