Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Where was Rathbone?
“Hello, handsome.” Lore stared at his mouth for seconds longer than polite, her blood rushing hot. “Are you ready for our big day?”
“You genuinely desire him,” Neeka gasped out. How can I use this information to my advantage?
“You can’t,” Lore snapped, no longer quite so happy.
“Can’t what?” Azar demanded, placing the bar in its perch and sitting up.
Scowling, she said, “Just thought you should know the oracle is a part of me now. We drank an elixir, and it combined us. I can hear her thoughts. Rathbone plans to shift into you and kill me. Be a dear and hobble him.”
Surprise glistened in the warlord’s extraordinary irises.
Neeka fought with all her might to seize the reins of control. She grappled. Clawed. Kicked and screamed. The exertion depleted her—and empowered her hostess.
“Mmm, yes,” Lore said with a delighted moan. “Keep doing that.”
Neeka deflated, shocked. She’d failed?
Azar wiped a rag over his sweat-dampened brow, his palms already glittering with stardust. “Erebus isn’t your fated. I am. He’s done something to convince you—”
“Why are you focusing on what doesn’t matter?” Neeka shrieked, and the words escaped her host’s mouth.
She gasped, and the goddess went stiff.
Oh, oh, oh! What had allowed her to succeed? Not her strength, because she currently had none. She tried to control Lore’s words a second time but...
“Of course he isn’t,” Lore said, herself once again. She opened her mouth to say more but closed it. Opened. Closed. Indecision plagued her, confusing Neeka. But that indecision hardened into resolve with a single thought: For my freedom. “He’ll experience the same fate as you the second I’m done with him. By the way, just because I’m yours doesn’t mean you’re mine. Defeated foes aren’t my type.”
He stared at her without a change in his expression before issuing a clipped nod.
And with that, Neeka felt as if the final piece of the elaborate puzzle fell into place. Whatever he’d decided had etched everything in stone. Dread swamped her. The future was now set, the dominos already in motion.
An upheaval erupted in the hallway, voices exploding through the air. Azar stiffened. Lore rubbed her hands together as the word Rathbone reached her ears.
Neeka groaned. The King of Agonies had arrived.
* * *
Rathbone stormed the harpy palace. He could’ve started with stealth, secretly removing Azar from play and taking over his identity, but he didn’t know Astra customs. This was an official ceremony with set rules; he would’ve gotten caught or caused disqualification.
Instead, he’d chosen another route. The plan rolled through his mind. Tattle-tale on Azar. If the other Astra refused to subdue the warlord, saving Rathbone the time and trouble, he’d go with Plan B.
Harpies catcalled. As soon as the Astra army learned of his arrival, they began to appear and attack. He did not go down. “Azar believes Lore is his fated,” he shouted, throwing off a warlord. “He’s already revived her.”
Someone launched a punch. He transformed into a primordial panther and bit off the male’s hand, then returned to his true form. Blood dripped from his mouth. “Azar! Show yourself, coward, and admit the truth.”
Finally, the Memory Keeper arrived, appearing grimmer than usual.
“Tell them,” Rathbone demanded.
The warlord stared at him, ice cold. “He’s correct. I have already revived her.”
Okay. That had been a wee bit easier than expected. He pointed at Azar but addressed the others. “According to Neeka’s visions, he’s under Lore’s command. He can’t kill her. He’ll help her slaughter you and the harpies. If you want to win, you’ll let me become him. I’ll kill Lore and hand your victory.”
The Astra attacked as a unit. They weren’t going to listen to him, the enemy. Very well. He’d stopped fighting, allowing the warlords to wrestle him to the ground and bind his wrists with chains. His ticket to the ceremony.
“I thought you’d learned your lesson about this,” Rathbone taunted. “Imprisoning me isn’t one of your talents.”
The brute with a half shaved head hauled him to his feet, snapping, “I might not have a soulbond-breaking collar, but the new cuffs will do for now. You won’t be getting out of these. I made sure of it.”
“You need me,” Rathbone told them, trying again. “Neeka assured me I’ll be Azar in every way that matters.” If it would’ve worked with Lore, it would work for the Astra.
“You don’t understand,” Shaved said, unbending. “We love him. We’ll bet on him every time.”
Rathbone’s gaze shot to Azar, who flinched the slightest bit.
“Where is she?” The question came from the General. The group of harpies parted, revealing the pale-haired Taliyah as she strode closer. “Where’s Neeka.”
“Safe,” Rathbone said.
“What does that mean?” she demanded. “I want to see her. Hear the outcome from her mouth, not yours.”
“Too bad. She and Lore partook of an elixir meant to create a tie stronger than mates. Neeka won’t be going near her. But go ahead. Try to breach my palace defenses again. You won’t bypass Hades, her personal guard, without my approval.”