The Warlord (Rise of the Warlords 1)

Oh, really? “How are you in control, yet shackled to a curse? If you can overcome any situation, why can’t you save your gravita and your men? Asking for all my friends.”

Roc chiseled a side of his finger and cursed. Blood poured from the wound.

He said nothing else, prickling her temper. When a bead of sweat trickled from her temple, she banged her fist in frustration. Though she thrived in cold—or she had, pre-Roc—she wore the suffocating garments he’d foisted upon her: a long-sleeved shirt and leather pants, both lined with some kind of fur. She wore these despite the warm temperature.

“To help you stay warm,” he’d told her with determination, as if he should get an A-plus for his thoughtfulness. “The ground is cold—”

“I know,” she’d snapped. “My homeland, remember? You’re the intruder here.”

Lack of sleep was getting to her, too. Since coming to Harpina, she’d slept a total of zero minutes.

“I told you not to bother me while I work, harpy.” Clink, clink. Clink, clink. “Yet there you are, bothering me. If you’re not going to tell me about your childhood, do nothing.”

“I didn’t do anything! I didn’t even say anything.”

“You breathed,” he bellowed. “Isn’t that what you told Ian?”

He’d heard her? Or had his brother ratted her out? Whatever. Truth was truth. Now she wondered... What if Roc, the mighty Commander of the Astra Planeta, was falling for his phantom wife?

What if he fell for her so soundly, he picked her over his men?

Would he? Probably not. But he might be inclined to help save her and the Astra.

She admitted it; she liked the idea. A lot. Why accept a picture of defeat for the first time in her life, when the stakes had never been higher?

“Hey, Roc?” she asked with a sweet tone.

He groaned.

“Did I forget to mention it’s Topless Tuesday?” She wiggled out of the shirt and tossed it in his direction.

He caught the garment with ease. As he stared at her, hard, she lay on the flat surface of the meteorite, stretching out.

“Ah. Much better.”

“Taliyah...”

“What? I’m developing my wing-pinner tan line. A constant reminder to turn you down when I turn you on.”

Did a muscle jump under his eye? “Put the shirt on before you burn.” He tossed the garment back to her.

Taliyah caught it, smiled and threw the stupid thing over the other side of the meteorite. “The shirt stays off. It’s a million degrees out here and someone conveniently forgot to give his precious captive a bra. So, I think we both know this is a sorry-not-sorry situation for you. Complain one more time, and the pants go, too.”

He unleashed a series of caveman-style grunts, but he said nothing else.

“Tell me more about the blessing, and I’ll behave,” she said. “But only as long as you’re talking. Just so we’re clear.”

She expected another refusal. Instead, he told her, “After the Astra ascended the first time, one after the other, we had a choice. Remain as we were, never gaining new power, or enter a door to great suffering and greater heights.”

“A literal door?”

“Yes. It appeared before us. We don’t know who made it, how or why, but it wasn’t Chaos. When we stepped through, we entered a world of darkness. We fought our way free, each killing a monster along the way. That kill decided our original rank, determining our helmets as well as our blessing task. Our rank has changed many times, depending on our performance during our battles and our tasks. Every five hundred years, we must repeat our specific task, in order of our rank, whatever it is. If we succeed, one after the other, we receive the blessing. We win every battle we fight. If even one of us fails, we’re all cursed to lose every battle.”

That was a crap ton of pressure for each warlord to carry. “How does Erebus fit in?”

“We’d been at war with him for centuries already. He ascended before us, and yes, he entered the door first. We couldn’t allow him to gain new power while remaining stagnant ourselves. As soon as we received our ranks, we found ourselves bound to him through the blessing and curse. He fights to complete his task—stopping us.”

Ohhh. No wonder Roc remained confident in his ability to resist the ultimate temptation. No wonder he’d kept that tidbit hush-hush.

Why tell her now?

The answer marched itself into her head, and she gasped. “You’re reinforcing your first warning to me, aren’t you? Even though you’re sexual with me, something you’ve never been with another bride, you’ll kill me because I’m a phantom. That’s almost sweet of you. Know what would be sweeter? Saving everyone.”

He flinched. “You think we didn’t try in the beginning?”

What would she do if the situation were reversed and she fought to protect her sisters and all of harpykind?