The Phantom, page 6
Long ago, Chaos had chosen Ian to be the first leader of the Astra. A wise move. His abilities were awe-inspiring and vast. But he’d failed to sacrifice his bride during the original blessing task, welcoming the curse, and heralding the death of several Astra. After that, he’d lost his rank.
Just how many phantoms had Erebus snuck inside the palace? Why had no one informed Roux more had come?
All three males regarded him with something akin to worry.
“What?” he demanded, unable to tolerate the curiosity a moment longer. “If you doubt my ability to prove victorious, do not.” It was the worst insult they could lob at him.
He might have his share of problems. The prisoners in his mind. Their screams. Bouts of blankness and madness. His utter hatred of physical contact. His unusual obsession with a black-haired, blue-eyed harphantom who rightfully despised him. But. Never had he failed these men; never would he. Roux had always—would always—cross any line to protect them.
“We have no doubt you will succeed,” the Commander stated. “But there’s a problem. Blythe found a path into Ation.”
Hearing her name spoken aloud sent a jolt through him, making his spine go ramrod straight. This explained why she hadn’t dropped by today’s tea for kidneys at least.
“How?” he demanded.
“Erebus, I’m sure. I suspect she means to challenge you at every turn, impeding your victory however possible.”
Enjoy your last days. I’m coming for you.
He worked his jaw. “Are you ordering me to kill your gravita’s beloved sister?” And if so, how was Roux to respond? He had never hesitated to follow a directive but he wasn’t sure he could murder Isla’s sole remaining parent in cold blood. Or hot blood. Never again scent that sweet mix of honeysuckle and rose?
Stiffness spread through him, making his body feel as hard as granite.
“I am not.” Roc scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m asking you to let her live, no matter what vile deeds she commits against you. When you return with the queen, I’d like a living, breathing Blythe to be with you. Taliyah won’t forgive me if harm comes to her sibling.”
Relief poured through him. “It shall be as you have requested.”
“If she’s injured along the way,” the Commander added, “find a way to heal her. Because she lost her mate, she’ll be unable to use blood as medicine. Bloodfruit doesn’t help her. She can’t keep it down.”
A complication he hadn’t considered. Mated harpies sickened when they drank from anyone but their consort, forcing widows to rely on a tree-grown blood substitute.
Perhaps Blythe required something stronger than fruit? She was a royal born of the gods who’d birthed phantoms and snakeshifters. “What of soul?” Did she vomit that, too?
“I don’t know. Taliyah tells me as little as possible of her sisters.”
No matter. “I will do whatever proves necessary.” Words he meant with every fiber of his being. Now, on to business before he got lost in thoughts of the harphantom. “What do you know of Ation’s terrain?”
“Ophelia shared the rumors she’s heard throughout the years,” Halo said. “Ation is supposedly like Earth, with mountains, plains, deserts, oceans, and forests. The seasons differ in different locations. Night replaces day and day replaces night. But beware of the monsters beneath the ground.”
Monsters? No big deal. “When do I leave?”
“Today,” Roc said, surprising him. “You’ll need to take any supplies with you. I’m told you’ll be able to flash into the realm as well as throughout it, but you won’t be able to leave. You’ll be completely cut off from other worlds, unable to communicate with us.” The Commander glanced at the clock behind Roux. “You have one hour to prepare.”
“Just in a couple of minutes.” Roux remained at the ready.
With only a thought, he summoned a backpack, weapons, all-terrain gear, gold, and anything else he might need, teleporting each item atop the conference table. Then, he strapped the sword, daggers, whip, bow, and quiver of arrows to his body and stuffed the rest inside the backpack.
A solo dagger possessed a trinite blade. There was no reason to cart in an entire arsenal comprised of the single substance able to kill the harphantom. At the same time, he must be prepared for the worst.
Lifting his chin, he met the Commander’s gaze. “I’m ready.”
6
THE CALM
Blythe stumbled across a sunlit expanse of soft grass and sharp stones, regretting her foolishness, and missing her daughter. She’d walked for hours with no end in sight. Earlier, Penelope had drained her so completely, she’d been unable to fight as the wraith stripped her out of her uniform and boots and forced her into a ridiculously sheer white nightgown. The plunging neckline displayed ample cleavage and really made her new wrist shackles pop.
Perfect “bait” attire. Never mind that bloody abrasions littered her bare feet and dirt smeared her calves.
The ruby remained embedded in the hollow of her throat, just above her sternum, allowing Miss Murder to drain her anytime, anywhere. Which she hadn’t done for over an hour.
As soon as her strength returned, Blythe attempted to flash to another world. And bombed. She tried again, aiming for ten miles to the east within this very realm. Another bomb.
Unwilling to give up, she misted—nope. Slipped into a spirit realm? Not even a little.
Frustration razed her nerves. She’d been tagged with mystical shackles. They did more than limit her movements; they kept her helpless.
Penelope floated over the land, keeping pace beside a strange amalgamation of creatures. It was the size of a wolf with the hide of a stonefish and the horn of a rhinoceros, and it led Blythe forward using the nexus of chain that dangled from the center of her manacles. It kept the end firmly anchored in its mouth.
“Faster, girl,” the spectral menace demanded as Blythe tripped over a rock. “I have places to be.”
“What places? Why?” Knowledge equaled power, and right now she needed all the power she could get.
“Why is easy. I’ve sold you. The places are none of your bee’s wax. Is that the saying? Did I use it correctly?”
She worked her jaw. “Who bought me?”
“The queen of Ation. Who else? No other can afford my admittedly exorbitant rates.”
Well, well. The queen herself. The very person Blythe sought. She picked up the pace as much as inhumanly possible. Which wasn’t much.
“Don’t hate me,” the wraith continued. She flaunted a grin over her shoulder. “Or do. I do what I must to keep my people in peak condition for the coming of our Chosen One.”
Chosen One? “Do tell.”
“All I’ll share is this. She’s a being of exceptional ability who will free us from our suffering.”
“Meanwhile you make others suffer?”
“And you are above such pursuits?”
She narrowed her eyes. Silence reigned as they exited a valley teeming with wildflowers, bypassed a crystalline lake surrounded by gorgeous red flowers, and paraded past an ancient village of women toiling to survive. Some were dyeing and weaving garments. Some skinned animals, while others stirred stews or carried large clay pots of sloshing water.
None approached, too afraid to even glance at the wraith. No one spoke, either. They simply went about their day, as if used to encountering prisoners who were being dragged to and fro. Maybe they were.
Blythe blamed Erebus for her predicament, yes, but also Roux. Mostly Roux. Had he kept his claws to himself, Laban would be alive, Isla would have two parents at her side, and Blythe would be blissfully happy again.
When Miss Murder moaned with pleasure, Blythe groaned. She knew what came next—another draining.
Sure enough, cold infiltrated her limbs. Tremors set in.
Any thought of the Astra delighted the wraith, shooting hatred along the link between them.
Deep breath in, out. As she attempted to blank her mind, an idea formed, both brilliant and risky. Blythe seized it. Desperate times, desperate measures. If she could glut the woman, the feedings would stop, and her strength would return full force. She could kill Penelope, ridding herself of the ruby.
Worth a shot.
Blythe returned her focus to Roux, to the memories she’d stolen from him. The ones involving the torture of the boy. In her mind, she saw the Astra draped in a black robe, with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He stood over the boy. A poor soul fettered to a bed of stone.
Expression gleeful, Roux pressed a multitude of branding irons into the child’s flesh. Screams of agony echoed within her head, reminiscent of those she’d heard while inhabiting him. Hatred swamped her.
New moans left the wraith.
Another memory of torture made itself known, and more hatred flowed along the link, establishing a pattern. Concentrate, flow. And flow. And flow. Gah! The wraith might be a bottomless pit.
Blythe’s knees buckled, and she toppled to the ground. Bad plan. Very bad.
The wolflike creature—she’d call it Amal—sustained its swift pace, dragging her behind it. Rocks sliced different parts of her. Amid an onslaught of aches and stings, she clambered to her feet.
The Astra will pay for every vile deed he’s ever committed! Every wound I’ve received.
Every moment of my family’s anguish.
A fresh tide of weakness crashed into her limbs. “I want my dagger back,” she snapped, stumbling again.
“Dream on, girlie.” Penelope chuckled with delight. “But whatever you’re thinking, keep it up. Your hatred is delicious. The most potent I’ve ever sampled. Truly, my thanks for the top off.”
Irritation flared. Blythe knew a bit about wraiths and how they operated. The only way to shed the ruby—without Penelope’s aid or death—was to rid herself of whatever emotion empowered it. Sounded easy. It wasn’t. She’d lived a long time and knew how emotions worked. They started out as seeds planted in the rich soil of your heart. Thoughts and words acted as water. Soon, trees sprouted and bore fruit, good or bad. More seeds, more trees. She couldn’t even die and revive to remove the ruby. The roots remained ready to grow a whole new orchard.
To remove her new bling, Blythe must truly forgive Roux for his crimes against her family. But how could she forgive him, even temporarily?
He and his brethren deserved to suffer. No other outcome was acceptable. But, at the rate she was currently draining, she might die without reviving.
“Are we there yet?” she whined, and not just to be annoying.
“Unfortunately for you, we are.” Penelope pointed ahead to an overcast area where a group of large rocks formed a wide circle. Reminded Blythe of Stonehenge in the mortal realm.
Twenty females congregated there, some perched atop the rocks, others standing guard outside the circle. She clocked two shifters, three vampires seemingly unbothered by the sunlight, six Amazons, one gorgon, five sirens, two harpies, and a manticore, who didn’t look like some fragile thing in need of a man’s protection, but a hardened warrior.
Blythe’s gaze lingered on the manticore’s golden mane. A lump clogged her throat. The ruby heated, and more of her strength whooshed away.
Each being wore a leather half top and short, slitted skirt, putting their weapons on display. A stunning, scarlet-haired vampire with green eyes bore a crown fashioned from black crystals. The Ation queen?
Harpies and vampires shared an ancestor. Thanks to a violent history, the two species rarely got along.
When Penelope and Amal halted before the guards, the suspected queen stepped from her rock, zipping to the ground and executing a graceful landing. As she approached the wraith, another vampire and an Amazon joined her, flanking her sides.
“This is our insurance policy?” The potential queen looked Blythe over and grimaced, clearly unimpressed. And who could blame her? There was nothing more humiliating than being caught in chains. “It’s so...delicate.” She shuddered.
It? Blythe’s wings fluttered. “Careful, babe. This insurance policy comes with hidden fees.” Blythe inwardly grimaced. Okay, so, as far as comebacks went, that one sucked. In her defense—no, she had no defense. She should be better at this, and it was her fault she’d gone soft the past eight years.
Snickers blended with murmurs of doubt. The doubt came from the harpies. Who should have rushed to vindicate Blythe. The sisterhood stuck together against all others, always, whether they knew each other or not. Or rather, they did in Harpina. But she wasn’t in Harpina anymore, was she?
Teeth grinding, Blythe shifted her focus to the rocks. Hmm. Up close, she noticed blood-smeared carvings. Strange symbols she didn’t recognize. Power wafted from each, prodding her curiosity.
“This chick isn’t a prize,” the fairest of the harpies said. “She’s a participation ribbon.”
Hold up. Insurance policy. Chick. Participation ribbon. Why did an ancient civilization of criminals sound so modern?
Penelope seemed to read her mind. Fluffing her hair, she said, “I acquired a collection of romance novels featuring the original heartbreakers and often read them to the masses. For a price. I suggest you put your name on the attendees’ list ASAP. We fill up fast.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
The vampire with the crown held up a hand in a bid for silence—and she got it. Oh, yes. The queen. “Answer my question, wraith.”
“I am one hundred percent certain she’s the one you seek,” Penelope said. “I’ve been assured the Astra will agree to your demands in order to save her life.”
“Why?” the queen asked. “Is she his mate?”
“No,” Blythe snarled, unable to hold her tongue. Let anyone think she belonged with Laban’s killer? Never! “I’m his doom.”
Once again, snickers sounded. Someone even mocked her. “I’m his doom.”
“Ah, how cute is she?” The gorgon jumped up and down and clapped. “This phantom isn’t as mindless as we heard.”
So. They saw her as a phantom, not a harpy or even a combination of the two.
“Her sister is wed to the Astra’s king,” Penelope explained. “The warrior headed here is supposed to save her while completing his blessing task.”
Well. Everyone had been fully briefed about the intricacies of the situation. And Roux, save her? Hardly. He’d be too busy dying.
Satisfaction played over the queen’s elegant features. Everyone else attempted to mask their excitement but failed.
For some reason, this infuriated the vampire. “Do not forget,” she snapped at the group. “He’s mine.”
“Wrong. He’s mine.” The Amazon at the queen’s side moved as fast as lightning, swinging a sword, swiftly beheading the vampire. She swooped down to swipe the crystal crown from the grass. As she straightened, she settled the circlet atop her head.
The violence didn’t disturb Blythe. She’d seen worse a thousand times over. She’d done worse. But wow. Just wow.
There was a beat of silence as everyone absorbed what had happened. Then a chorus of cheers erupted, but they sounded anything but cheerful. Blythe detected grumbles and bored tones.
“All hail Sheena,” the women cried, “the new queen of Ation.”
Sheena preened. She was a dark beauty, at least six feet tall, and marked with scars along each arm. “I’ll be attending your next reading free of charge,” she told Penelope.
“Of course,” the wraith replied. “The queen usually does.”
Extending her arms, the new ruler turned in a half circle to face her companions. “Any objections?”
The others darted their gazes, staying quiet. Not Blythe. “Do you plan to kill him?” she demanded.
Completing the spin, Sheena met her gaze and laughed. “Kill him? Are you kidding? He’ll be the first male to enter this world. I plan to bed him again and again and again and again. When I’m pregnant and done with him, I’ll gift him to the others. They can spend a night in his bed. For a price.”
For a price. The theme of Ation. But. Allow Roux to experience pleasure upon pleasure during his task? Although...
She’d followed him for weeks, yet she’d never seen him make use of his concubine in a sexual way. Nor had he shown favor to a harpy. Therefore, she had no idea about the kind of women who revved his engine. But come on. What hot-blooded, single warrior wouldn’t relish time spent with sex-starved prisoners?
She balled her hands. As more weakness settled in her limbs, Penelope moaned with glee.
Amal’s sudden roar tore Blythe’s attention from the wraith. What? What had happened?
The other women squealed as they raced into formation, creating two lines of four and two lines of five, with Sheena two steps ahead of them all.
“Give her to me.” The new queen stretched out her arm and waved her fingers in Blythe’s direction. “Now.”
“I don’t know if I should,” Penelope replied as Amal shifted its big body directly in front of her. “My deal was with Morgana. Only her mark decorates the Oath Stone.”
Morgana, the former queen? Oath Stone? Wait. Blythe thought she remembered Oath Stones mentioned in history books. Used by the ancients to ensure beings kept their word.
“No, your deal was with the realm’s leader. I am she, and she is me.” Sheena waved her fingers again. “You’ll have your payment by morning. Now give me my insurance.”
“Very well. The deal stands.” The wraith nodded to Amal, who dropped the end of Blythe’s chain.
She pulled at her shackles. How she longed to lash out. To prove her superior strength. To punish. To excise the tension building inside her. But, as the ground shook, then shook again, gaining traction, she barely remained upright.
Sheena wasted no time, swiping the links and yanking. Blythe stumbled forward, unable to halt her momentum. The queen caught and spun her, putting them chest to back, then wrapped one arm around her waist. With her free hand, Sheena held a blade at Blythe’s throat.
Just how many phantoms had Erebus snuck inside the palace? Why had no one informed Roux more had come?
All three males regarded him with something akin to worry.
“What?” he demanded, unable to tolerate the curiosity a moment longer. “If you doubt my ability to prove victorious, do not.” It was the worst insult they could lob at him.
He might have his share of problems. The prisoners in his mind. Their screams. Bouts of blankness and madness. His utter hatred of physical contact. His unusual obsession with a black-haired, blue-eyed harphantom who rightfully despised him. But. Never had he failed these men; never would he. Roux had always—would always—cross any line to protect them.
“We have no doubt you will succeed,” the Commander stated. “But there’s a problem. Blythe found a path into Ation.”
Hearing her name spoken aloud sent a jolt through him, making his spine go ramrod straight. This explained why she hadn’t dropped by today’s tea for kidneys at least.
“How?” he demanded.
“Erebus, I’m sure. I suspect she means to challenge you at every turn, impeding your victory however possible.”
Enjoy your last days. I’m coming for you.
He worked his jaw. “Are you ordering me to kill your gravita’s beloved sister?” And if so, how was Roux to respond? He had never hesitated to follow a directive but he wasn’t sure he could murder Isla’s sole remaining parent in cold blood. Or hot blood. Never again scent that sweet mix of honeysuckle and rose?
Stiffness spread through him, making his body feel as hard as granite.
“I am not.” Roc scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m asking you to let her live, no matter what vile deeds she commits against you. When you return with the queen, I’d like a living, breathing Blythe to be with you. Taliyah won’t forgive me if harm comes to her sibling.”
Relief poured through him. “It shall be as you have requested.”
“If she’s injured along the way,” the Commander added, “find a way to heal her. Because she lost her mate, she’ll be unable to use blood as medicine. Bloodfruit doesn’t help her. She can’t keep it down.”
A complication he hadn’t considered. Mated harpies sickened when they drank from anyone but their consort, forcing widows to rely on a tree-grown blood substitute.
Perhaps Blythe required something stronger than fruit? She was a royal born of the gods who’d birthed phantoms and snakeshifters. “What of soul?” Did she vomit that, too?
“I don’t know. Taliyah tells me as little as possible of her sisters.”
No matter. “I will do whatever proves necessary.” Words he meant with every fiber of his being. Now, on to business before he got lost in thoughts of the harphantom. “What do you know of Ation’s terrain?”
“Ophelia shared the rumors she’s heard throughout the years,” Halo said. “Ation is supposedly like Earth, with mountains, plains, deserts, oceans, and forests. The seasons differ in different locations. Night replaces day and day replaces night. But beware of the monsters beneath the ground.”
Monsters? No big deal. “When do I leave?”
“Today,” Roc said, surprising him. “You’ll need to take any supplies with you. I’m told you’ll be able to flash into the realm as well as throughout it, but you won’t be able to leave. You’ll be completely cut off from other worlds, unable to communicate with us.” The Commander glanced at the clock behind Roux. “You have one hour to prepare.”
“Just in a couple of minutes.” Roux remained at the ready.
With only a thought, he summoned a backpack, weapons, all-terrain gear, gold, and anything else he might need, teleporting each item atop the conference table. Then, he strapped the sword, daggers, whip, bow, and quiver of arrows to his body and stuffed the rest inside the backpack.
A solo dagger possessed a trinite blade. There was no reason to cart in an entire arsenal comprised of the single substance able to kill the harphantom. At the same time, he must be prepared for the worst.
Lifting his chin, he met the Commander’s gaze. “I’m ready.”
6
THE CALM
Blythe stumbled across a sunlit expanse of soft grass and sharp stones, regretting her foolishness, and missing her daughter. She’d walked for hours with no end in sight. Earlier, Penelope had drained her so completely, she’d been unable to fight as the wraith stripped her out of her uniform and boots and forced her into a ridiculously sheer white nightgown. The plunging neckline displayed ample cleavage and really made her new wrist shackles pop.
Perfect “bait” attire. Never mind that bloody abrasions littered her bare feet and dirt smeared her calves.
The ruby remained embedded in the hollow of her throat, just above her sternum, allowing Miss Murder to drain her anytime, anywhere. Which she hadn’t done for over an hour.
As soon as her strength returned, Blythe attempted to flash to another world. And bombed. She tried again, aiming for ten miles to the east within this very realm. Another bomb.
Unwilling to give up, she misted—nope. Slipped into a spirit realm? Not even a little.
Frustration razed her nerves. She’d been tagged with mystical shackles. They did more than limit her movements; they kept her helpless.
Penelope floated over the land, keeping pace beside a strange amalgamation of creatures. It was the size of a wolf with the hide of a stonefish and the horn of a rhinoceros, and it led Blythe forward using the nexus of chain that dangled from the center of her manacles. It kept the end firmly anchored in its mouth.
“Faster, girl,” the spectral menace demanded as Blythe tripped over a rock. “I have places to be.”
“What places? Why?” Knowledge equaled power, and right now she needed all the power she could get.
“Why is easy. I’ve sold you. The places are none of your bee’s wax. Is that the saying? Did I use it correctly?”
She worked her jaw. “Who bought me?”
“The queen of Ation. Who else? No other can afford my admittedly exorbitant rates.”
Well, well. The queen herself. The very person Blythe sought. She picked up the pace as much as inhumanly possible. Which wasn’t much.
“Don’t hate me,” the wraith continued. She flaunted a grin over her shoulder. “Or do. I do what I must to keep my people in peak condition for the coming of our Chosen One.”
Chosen One? “Do tell.”
“All I’ll share is this. She’s a being of exceptional ability who will free us from our suffering.”
“Meanwhile you make others suffer?”
“And you are above such pursuits?”
She narrowed her eyes. Silence reigned as they exited a valley teeming with wildflowers, bypassed a crystalline lake surrounded by gorgeous red flowers, and paraded past an ancient village of women toiling to survive. Some were dyeing and weaving garments. Some skinned animals, while others stirred stews or carried large clay pots of sloshing water.
None approached, too afraid to even glance at the wraith. No one spoke, either. They simply went about their day, as if used to encountering prisoners who were being dragged to and fro. Maybe they were.
Blythe blamed Erebus for her predicament, yes, but also Roux. Mostly Roux. Had he kept his claws to himself, Laban would be alive, Isla would have two parents at her side, and Blythe would be blissfully happy again.
When Miss Murder moaned with pleasure, Blythe groaned. She knew what came next—another draining.
Sure enough, cold infiltrated her limbs. Tremors set in.
Any thought of the Astra delighted the wraith, shooting hatred along the link between them.
Deep breath in, out. As she attempted to blank her mind, an idea formed, both brilliant and risky. Blythe seized it. Desperate times, desperate measures. If she could glut the woman, the feedings would stop, and her strength would return full force. She could kill Penelope, ridding herself of the ruby.
Worth a shot.
Blythe returned her focus to Roux, to the memories she’d stolen from him. The ones involving the torture of the boy. In her mind, she saw the Astra draped in a black robe, with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He stood over the boy. A poor soul fettered to a bed of stone.
Expression gleeful, Roux pressed a multitude of branding irons into the child’s flesh. Screams of agony echoed within her head, reminiscent of those she’d heard while inhabiting him. Hatred swamped her.
New moans left the wraith.
Another memory of torture made itself known, and more hatred flowed along the link, establishing a pattern. Concentrate, flow. And flow. And flow. Gah! The wraith might be a bottomless pit.
Blythe’s knees buckled, and she toppled to the ground. Bad plan. Very bad.
The wolflike creature—she’d call it Amal—sustained its swift pace, dragging her behind it. Rocks sliced different parts of her. Amid an onslaught of aches and stings, she clambered to her feet.
The Astra will pay for every vile deed he’s ever committed! Every wound I’ve received.
Every moment of my family’s anguish.
A fresh tide of weakness crashed into her limbs. “I want my dagger back,” she snapped, stumbling again.
“Dream on, girlie.” Penelope chuckled with delight. “But whatever you’re thinking, keep it up. Your hatred is delicious. The most potent I’ve ever sampled. Truly, my thanks for the top off.”
Irritation flared. Blythe knew a bit about wraiths and how they operated. The only way to shed the ruby—without Penelope’s aid or death—was to rid herself of whatever emotion empowered it. Sounded easy. It wasn’t. She’d lived a long time and knew how emotions worked. They started out as seeds planted in the rich soil of your heart. Thoughts and words acted as water. Soon, trees sprouted and bore fruit, good or bad. More seeds, more trees. She couldn’t even die and revive to remove the ruby. The roots remained ready to grow a whole new orchard.
To remove her new bling, Blythe must truly forgive Roux for his crimes against her family. But how could she forgive him, even temporarily?
He and his brethren deserved to suffer. No other outcome was acceptable. But, at the rate she was currently draining, she might die without reviving.
“Are we there yet?” she whined, and not just to be annoying.
“Unfortunately for you, we are.” Penelope pointed ahead to an overcast area where a group of large rocks formed a wide circle. Reminded Blythe of Stonehenge in the mortal realm.
Twenty females congregated there, some perched atop the rocks, others standing guard outside the circle. She clocked two shifters, three vampires seemingly unbothered by the sunlight, six Amazons, one gorgon, five sirens, two harpies, and a manticore, who didn’t look like some fragile thing in need of a man’s protection, but a hardened warrior.
Blythe’s gaze lingered on the manticore’s golden mane. A lump clogged her throat. The ruby heated, and more of her strength whooshed away.
Each being wore a leather half top and short, slitted skirt, putting their weapons on display. A stunning, scarlet-haired vampire with green eyes bore a crown fashioned from black crystals. The Ation queen?
Harpies and vampires shared an ancestor. Thanks to a violent history, the two species rarely got along.
When Penelope and Amal halted before the guards, the suspected queen stepped from her rock, zipping to the ground and executing a graceful landing. As she approached the wraith, another vampire and an Amazon joined her, flanking her sides.
“This is our insurance policy?” The potential queen looked Blythe over and grimaced, clearly unimpressed. And who could blame her? There was nothing more humiliating than being caught in chains. “It’s so...delicate.” She shuddered.
It? Blythe’s wings fluttered. “Careful, babe. This insurance policy comes with hidden fees.” Blythe inwardly grimaced. Okay, so, as far as comebacks went, that one sucked. In her defense—no, she had no defense. She should be better at this, and it was her fault she’d gone soft the past eight years.
Snickers blended with murmurs of doubt. The doubt came from the harpies. Who should have rushed to vindicate Blythe. The sisterhood stuck together against all others, always, whether they knew each other or not. Or rather, they did in Harpina. But she wasn’t in Harpina anymore, was she?
Teeth grinding, Blythe shifted her focus to the rocks. Hmm. Up close, she noticed blood-smeared carvings. Strange symbols she didn’t recognize. Power wafted from each, prodding her curiosity.
“This chick isn’t a prize,” the fairest of the harpies said. “She’s a participation ribbon.”
Hold up. Insurance policy. Chick. Participation ribbon. Why did an ancient civilization of criminals sound so modern?
Penelope seemed to read her mind. Fluffing her hair, she said, “I acquired a collection of romance novels featuring the original heartbreakers and often read them to the masses. For a price. I suggest you put your name on the attendees’ list ASAP. We fill up fast.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
The vampire with the crown held up a hand in a bid for silence—and she got it. Oh, yes. The queen. “Answer my question, wraith.”
“I am one hundred percent certain she’s the one you seek,” Penelope said. “I’ve been assured the Astra will agree to your demands in order to save her life.”
“Why?” the queen asked. “Is she his mate?”
“No,” Blythe snarled, unable to hold her tongue. Let anyone think she belonged with Laban’s killer? Never! “I’m his doom.”
Once again, snickers sounded. Someone even mocked her. “I’m his doom.”
“Ah, how cute is she?” The gorgon jumped up and down and clapped. “This phantom isn’t as mindless as we heard.”
So. They saw her as a phantom, not a harpy or even a combination of the two.
“Her sister is wed to the Astra’s king,” Penelope explained. “The warrior headed here is supposed to save her while completing his blessing task.”
Well. Everyone had been fully briefed about the intricacies of the situation. And Roux, save her? Hardly. He’d be too busy dying.
Satisfaction played over the queen’s elegant features. Everyone else attempted to mask their excitement but failed.
For some reason, this infuriated the vampire. “Do not forget,” she snapped at the group. “He’s mine.”
“Wrong. He’s mine.” The Amazon at the queen’s side moved as fast as lightning, swinging a sword, swiftly beheading the vampire. She swooped down to swipe the crystal crown from the grass. As she straightened, she settled the circlet atop her head.
The violence didn’t disturb Blythe. She’d seen worse a thousand times over. She’d done worse. But wow. Just wow.
There was a beat of silence as everyone absorbed what had happened. Then a chorus of cheers erupted, but they sounded anything but cheerful. Blythe detected grumbles and bored tones.
“All hail Sheena,” the women cried, “the new queen of Ation.”
Sheena preened. She was a dark beauty, at least six feet tall, and marked with scars along each arm. “I’ll be attending your next reading free of charge,” she told Penelope.
“Of course,” the wraith replied. “The queen usually does.”
Extending her arms, the new ruler turned in a half circle to face her companions. “Any objections?”
The others darted their gazes, staying quiet. Not Blythe. “Do you plan to kill him?” she demanded.
Completing the spin, Sheena met her gaze and laughed. “Kill him? Are you kidding? He’ll be the first male to enter this world. I plan to bed him again and again and again and again. When I’m pregnant and done with him, I’ll gift him to the others. They can spend a night in his bed. For a price.”
For a price. The theme of Ation. But. Allow Roux to experience pleasure upon pleasure during his task? Although...
She’d followed him for weeks, yet she’d never seen him make use of his concubine in a sexual way. Nor had he shown favor to a harpy. Therefore, she had no idea about the kind of women who revved his engine. But come on. What hot-blooded, single warrior wouldn’t relish time spent with sex-starved prisoners?
She balled her hands. As more weakness settled in her limbs, Penelope moaned with glee.
Amal’s sudden roar tore Blythe’s attention from the wraith. What? What had happened?
The other women squealed as they raced into formation, creating two lines of four and two lines of five, with Sheena two steps ahead of them all.
“Give her to me.” The new queen stretched out her arm and waved her fingers in Blythe’s direction. “Now.”
“I don’t know if I should,” Penelope replied as Amal shifted its big body directly in front of her. “My deal was with Morgana. Only her mark decorates the Oath Stone.”
Morgana, the former queen? Oath Stone? Wait. Blythe thought she remembered Oath Stones mentioned in history books. Used by the ancients to ensure beings kept their word.
“No, your deal was with the realm’s leader. I am she, and she is me.” Sheena waved her fingers again. “You’ll have your payment by morning. Now give me my insurance.”
“Very well. The deal stands.” The wraith nodded to Amal, who dropped the end of Blythe’s chain.
She pulled at her shackles. How she longed to lash out. To prove her superior strength. To punish. To excise the tension building inside her. But, as the ground shook, then shook again, gaining traction, she barely remained upright.
Sheena wasted no time, swiping the links and yanking. Blythe stumbled forward, unable to halt her momentum. The queen caught and spun her, putting them chest to back, then wrapped one arm around her waist. With her free hand, Sheena held a blade at Blythe’s throat.
