Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“There you go, smiling again,” Penelope muttered. “Can’t you wait to unveil it after you leave? Honestly, Astra, it makes my stomach turn.”
Twelve minutes, twenty-seven seconds until Blythe’s battle. “Shall we bargain for information, wraith?”
“We shan’t. You have nothing I want.” She ran her gaze over his body. “Well, almost nothing.”
He waggled his jaw. “What of your freedom from this world?”
Her eyes brightened, as if she suddenly glowed from the inside, but the light dulled in a snap. “You believe you’ll escape. You’re wrong. Why do you think Erebus stays on the other side of his doors when he—” She pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Well, well. Look who tricked me into saying more than I planned.”
The god comprehended how to open doors into Ation. A tidbit. Roux had only to figure out how Erebus did it, then reverse the process. Maybe. His task for tomorrow. After he devoured Blythe.
“Smiling again.” The wraith tsked. “Don’t you dare rush off,” she ordered when he tensed to leave. “Maybe we can bargain. After all, I know other things concerning your enemy. Many, many other things.” She purred now. “In return, you can give me the same show the harpy gave you this morning.”
She’d spied on them? Of course she had. Eyes and ears lurked everywhere in the palace.
Despite his rising irritation, he was tempted to stay and question the wraith further. But acting too eager might place him in a lesser position in her estimation. Better to return on his terms.
Eleven minutes, nine seconds left in the battle. Eight. Seven. Six.
“I’ll consider it,” he said. As she sputtered with indignation, he flashed to the underground arena, landing in the same spot he’d abandoned earlier. The edge of the dais. Without glancing over his shoulder, he knew every member of the welcome party still occupied the dais as well. They sat in their chairs, laughing and drinking champagne.
The harpy named Tonka popped to her feet, bubbly liquid splashing over the rim of her glass. “Uh, don’t you have somewhere else to be, Astra?” she asked with a worried tone.
He scanned the area below and stiffened. If he’d been smiling before, he wasn’t now. His harpy stood in the ring, lined up with everyone else in her heat. They were all sirens, the weakest of the participating immortals...save for their voices. The group faced off with ten unibeasts on the other side of the circle, each animal pawing at the sand, eager to begin.
Smears of blood wet the walls and drenched the sand. Evidence of previous battles.
Having watched many of the preceding heats, he knew the beasts had eaten the losers. A strong metallic twang scented the air.
“The last group isn’t supposed to go for another ten minutes, thirteen seconds.” Other facts hit him. The odds of only sirens ending up in Blythe’s group, rather than an eclectic mix of species, were not high. This had been planned, and not in the harpy’s favor.
“Not our fault. The combatants before this one canceled,” the pale-haired Tonka explained, setting aside her glass and approaching his side. She faced the arena, not daring to meet his gaze. “They preferred to lose their heads by sword rather than to feed a horde of unibeasts their vital organs. To each their own, amirite?”
He flicked his tongue over an incisor. This had been a planned act, and, considering Penelope’s change of heart at the end of their conversation, the wraith participated. Was she supposed to keep him on her island until Blythe’s heat ended? A heat meant to conclude with the death of his chosen female, he was sure. If not by fair means, then definitely foul. Without him acting as an eyewitness, the perpetrators could claim total innocence afterward.
The fury he’d experienced when he’d learned what was to occur today—nothing compared to what he experienced now. It burned through him, torching any semblance of calm.
“When I kill you,” he told the councilmembers, using the softest of tones, “I will make sure you hurt in ways you never dreamed possible.”
A mix of trepidation and aggression wafted from them.
“You can’t blame a girl for taking a shot.” The pale-haired harpy reached for a large ram’s horn that rested against a pillar. “Besides, we’ve heard your threats before. So far you’ve been all talk and no action. How do we know you’re even half as evil as you’ve been boasting?”
Did she hope to goad him into launching an attack? Would he then be accused of breaking a rule? He leaned down, getting in her face, forcing her to peer into his eyes. “You’ll be the first to suffer.”
She stumbled back, only to lift her chin in defiance. “Promises, promises. Now enough chatter. It’s time for the final round.”
She couldn’t mask her trembling as she brought the horn to her lips. Her gaze returned to him before she inhaled deeply...and blew.