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)
“We are brewing the monsters,” Lore said, interrupting Roc, who went quiet at last. “The two of us together. And I don’t want a shot with Azar.”
“I despise you,” Neeka grated.
“It’s mutual, I assure you.”
“Since you are so eager to participate, face me, female,” Roc commanded.
“Certainly, oh great one,” Lore said, stepping around Azar. She grinned as she linked her arm through the Astra’s. “Are you as excited as I am?”
A muscle jumped beneath Roc’s eye, reminding Neeka of Rathbone, and the time he’d pretended to be the Commander. “My Cherry Bomb. I miss him.” The words left Lore’s mouth, and they both gasped.
Think of Rathbone and take over? Was that the key?
Rathbone, Rathbone, Rathbone. But... Nope. She didn’t speak aloud again, and Lore relaxed.
The Commander stared hard for a long while before refocusing on the Memory Keeper. “Assure me you will do what you must.”
“I will do what I must,” the soldier vowed, yet all kinds of sorrow dripped from his tone.
Roc cast a narrowed glance to Lore, huffed, and nodded. “I’ll see you in the throne room. Five minutes.” He flashed away.
“Don’t worry. I’ll end you quick, I promise,” the goddess told Azar, turning her body into his. She rested her head on his shoulder, saying, “Pet my hair until it’s time to leave and say nothing.”
He wrapped one arm around her and used the other to pet her hair as ordered, the action stiff and formal. Lore tried not to enjoy it but couldn’t help herself. Meanwhile, Neeka wrapped her mental arms around Rathbone, clinging to her king.
“What happened with Rathbone?” the goddess asked. When he remained silent, she sighed. “You may speak.”
“He is chained in the dungeon.”
Neeka cried out. “No!”
Lore gave a little hum of delight. “Telepathically tell one of your Astra buddies to bring him to the throne room. I want him there.”
“No,” Neeka croaked. Here she was, living the behind-the-scenes activities of her vision, bringing the future of doom to life bit by bit.
“It’s done,” Azar said with a nod.
“Good. Now, be my dear and escort me to the throne room. The time has come, and I’m eager to finish this.”
He hesitated, strain contorting his features. Then he flashed her just outside the throne room, the entrance within reach.
Neeka kicked up a fuss inside Lore’s mind, making no progress.
Head high, Azar pushed open the doors and led his companion inside. In the center of the room was a newly built dais. On it was Lore’s throne, minus Rathbone’s flooring.
A crowd awaited them, just as she’d foreseen. Roc and Taliyah, side by side on their thrones. Chaos, Erebus, and Grenwich stood on Taliyah’s other side. The remaining Astra stood next to their Commander. The best warriors in the harpy army filled the space behind them. And there was Rathbone, chained to a wall.
Neeka whimpered. They’d lost.
Hades stood beside him at least.
Lore laughed, calling, “Hello, Rathbone. Chains suit you.” Azar helped her ease into her throne and stepped to the side, remaining near her, awaiting her next order. She took a beat, letting everyone else look their fill.
The crowd said nothing.
Finally, the goddess began. “Azar is my puppet,” she called, “and soon, the rest of you will be food.” Cupping the side of her mouth, she told them, “You should have listened to the King of Agonies.” She soaked up their reactions. Everything from rage to uncertainty. “Let’s give them a preview of the feats to come, Azar. Bow before me.”
Still the masses kept quiet, every eye riveted on the Memory Keeper.
Though his strain magnified, muscles and veins bulging, Azar sank to his knees and inclined his head.
The throng of harpies erupted with comments and questions while the Astra army maintained the gag order. Some couldn’t mask their shock, however, as if only then realizing the truth of Neeka and Rathbone’s prediction.
“Do not do this,” Azar whispered to Lore. “Please, do not do this.” Dark irises beseeched her. Untold agonies steeped in their depths.
Lore stared at the Astra, a lump growing in her throat, startling Neeka.
She pounced. “It’s not too late to forge a life with him.”
“No one asked for your commentary,” Lore softly snapped.
Rathbone fought confinement, shouting, “I love you! There’s got to be another way. Please.”
Neeka startled anew. Uh, no way he loved Lore. Just no way. He was gaga for Neeka, and she knew it. Zero doubts. So why would he ever—ohhhh. He knew Neeka inhabited the goddess. Knew her plan to die and save the day. And oh, how sweet it was to realize he’d shouted romantic confessions at her in the vision, not Lore.
He was always meant to be with Neeka.
Her heart swelled. I was meant to be with you, too, Wrath Boned.
“Shut up,” Lore muttered to Neeka, rubbing her temples. “Just shut up. I can’t concentrate, and I need to concentrate.”