The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

Had he just shifted from one foot to the other, as if uncomfortable with their scrutiny?

Good! Hatred for him threatened to boil over. Stronger tremors invaded. She returned her gaze to Roc and strode forward, closing the distance, approaching the male she loved. The man she would die to protect.

When she halted before him, drawing in his beloved scent, she forgot everything else. They were the only two here, the only beings who mattered. His heat prickled her skin, warming her. Always he warmed her.

Golden eyes tormented but determined, he raised his chin, telling her, “You have no reason to worry, love. I won’t fight you, and I won’t kill you.”

Okay, so pretending they were alone stopped working when a collective gasp rose from the crowd. Only the Astra remained unfazed. Rather, they, too, tilted up their chins. Because they agreed with him?

A light bloomed inside her heart, her mind. Suddenly Taliyah knew the answer to the question in the center of her struggles: Would she become his willing sacrifice, giving all of herself to ensure his—their—well-being?

She offered her husband a sad smile. “It’s okay, baby.”

“No.” He gave a clipped shake of his head. “Don’t insist I kill you.”

“I won’t. You have my word.” Most of her life, she’d fought to become harpy General, to lead and protect her people to the best of her ability. Finally, she’d done it, and she’d gained an amazing consort in the process. He’d given her everything, and she would do the same for him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Taliyah.” He sounded relieved. Resolute.

Erebus’s laughter rang out, raising her hackles. The fool thought he was winning. Just wait until he had to battle her harphantoms. Then he might not ever laugh again.

Ding. The first toll of the bell rang out. The curse approached.

Roc offered Taliyah his hand. “When the ceremony ends, we’ll flash away and hibernate. We’ll figure out a solution when we wake.”

Ding.

No. She had already figured out the solution. “When the ceremony ends...” she told him, accepting his hand.

Ding. As he drew her closer, she peered up at his beautiful face.

“...kill Erebus. Make him scream.” That said, she unsheathed one of Roc’s three-blades, ripped off her breastplate and thrust the weapon straight into her heart.

Horror contorted his face as pain exploded through her. Then she knew nothing more.

* * *

Ding.

“No!” Roc caught Taliyah as she collapsed.

As gasps, curses and denials rose from the crowd, the Astra closed in around him, forming a wall. Just before the ceremony had begun, they’d come to him as one, supporting his cause. He’d been humbled. He’d been overjoyed. More time with Taliyah, even slumbering—it was an end worth any price. But she...she was...

Ding.

“Wake, Taliyah! Revive! I command it,” he shouted down at her.

“No, no, no.” Erebus tore at his hair. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to die like that.”

Ding. Shock punched him. As the warmth faded from her skin, cold spreading, grief finished the job, slashing him to ribbons.

She had sacrificed herself.

Ended her life.

Ding.

She was dead, parts of her already evaporating. Soon, her body would be no more.

Different faces displayed different levels of shock.

Chaos...grinned.

Rage hit Roc with the force of a nuclear bomb. Rage like he’d never known. Something beyond anhilla. He focused on it, letting it blanket everything else. He’d told Taliyah he would follow her, and he’d meant it. With her, he lived. Without her, he merely existed. He could no longer do the latter. He wouldn’t. But first...

“Flash our sisters to safety,” he commanded Ian, barely able to recognize his own voice. The stone's effects failed when they stood near Chaos, the bond between god and guards an invisible shield. He unsheathed Taliyah’s handcrafted blade and leaped to his feet, facing Erebus.

The frantic god paced, running through his playbook. “Create the army of phantom-harpies, spawn a Skyhawk daughter, defeat Roc.”

Roc would deliver Taliyah’s vengeance before turning his focus to Chaos and delivering his own.

All around, the phantoms whom Erebus had tortured for so long screamed so loudly that Roc’s eardrums burst. Then they charged at Erebus. The god vanished before contact. Many of the phantoms gave chase, quickly returning him. Gashes littered every area of visible skin. Blood soaked his torn robe.

Not escaping me. “Release him,” Roc thundered, the entire realm shaking. “His death is mine.”

The phantoms...obeyed, releasing the god and floating back.

With a war cry that sprang from the depths of his soul, Roc launched forward. His feet hammered at the ground. In his bid to reach his enemy, he knocked over anyone in his way.

Two cannonballs of hatred, he and Erebus slammed together, flung to the ground and pinwheeled.

Roc slashed, bit and clawed with a savagery that surprised even him. He showed no mercy. Erebus was unprepared—at first; he sustained injuries that would’ve killed any lesser being.