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As suggested by Chaos, he had learned something during the other labors. Though Halo had won when he’d killed the beasts, he had inadvertently lost. He just hadn’t known it. But never again.

Currently he and his harpymph occupied his closet. She was dressing in the armor he’d fetched for her, anchoring her lush breasts beneath the metal cups of her breastplate. The short skirt allowed prolonged glances at the gorgeous legs he preferred to have wrapped around his waist. Or draped over his shoulders.

Halo adored this part of their day. Preparing to face the world together. Today, though, his nerves were fried, his thoughts returning again and again to the stable labor. What would Erebus force him to do this time?

Guilt and regret singed Halo as memories of the past tests surfaced. Ophelia, dead and bloody.

“Uh-oh. What’s our rule, Astra?” She molded her body to his the way he loved.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “No man-pouting unless I desire a real reason to man-pout.”

“Master is pleased.” Rising to her tiptoes, she kissed his chin.

“He is indeed.”

She grinned and ghosted her fingertips over his cheek. “I am master, and well you know it. You are my precious concubine who earned a reward by remembering my words of wisdom.”

“If I’m owed a reward, I will collect.” Halo hefted her over his shoulder and, while she giggled and wiggled, he smacked her backside and carried her into the bedroom. “Looks like we got dressed for nothing, nymph. Someone needs a reminder of her own. You belong to me, and I’ll prove it...”

He did. Twice.

Afterward, Halo ushered his harpy to the royal stable for a look around. Were they soon to do battle here?

He shuddered as he took stock of the building. Eighty thousand square feet. Twenty-four tack rooms. Multiple feed storages. Washrooms. Attached chambers for caregivers. Living and kitchen spaces. Three hundred stalls occupied by an array of creatures. Mostly horses, with a few winged horses and unicorns thrown into the mix.

During her reign, General Nissa had kept the place as clean as possible, the animals well cared for; Taliyah was no different.

Everywhere he walked, the scent of fresh hay and beast tinged the air.

“Nissa loved it here,” Ophelia offered softly. They entered a training arena with a dirt floor, set in a large circle, blocked by metal bars. “She always had a special connection with her animals.”

This was the first time she’d spoken of her mother without evincing pain. “What is your favorite memory of her?”

“Let’s see.” She skipped ahead, all sensual grace, and hopped on top of the fence. Her perfect balance persisted as she traipsed from one side of the bar to the other. “Probably the time she ambushed me to assess my reaction, and I knocked her flat. She patted my shoulder, almost proud of me.”

He imagined Little Ophelia had been much the same then as she was today. A feral sweetheart, with a blustery outer shell that guarded a blazing inferno of affection. Something her mate was tasked with stoking. Though Halo was an emotionally stunted male known as the Machine, he accepted the duty gladly and continued adding logs to the flames.

“Survive the next labor, Ophelia,” he said, “and I’ll give you more than a pat on the shoulder.”

“Um, I hate to love interrupting your coming speech, Hay-low, but the pin in my truth bomb has been pulled. Boom! I can’t be bribed, no matter how adorably sexy you are. If I gotta walk through your sword to die during a labor, imma walk through your sword.”

Conflicts razed his calm by the thousands, each one waged by only two combatants. Right and wrong. “I think you might be the first person in this world or any other to request repeated deaths.”

“What can I say?” She winked at him. “I’m one of a kind.”

Lingering resentments brimmed over. “You are forcing me to relive and repeat my worst memory.”

“Oh, dear. The happy couple is already at odds?” The smug voice of the Deathless filled the arena. He stood outside the training ground, at the edge of a high platform that hadn’t been there moments ago, where two empty thrones waited. “How devastating for you both.”

Knew it. Halo braced as hundreds of phantoms materialized around the fence. They hovered inches off the ground, silent, their heads bowed.

Ready for this or not... “What is it you’d like me to do this time, hmm?” he asked.

“We’ll get to that.” Dressed in his customary black robe, Erebus eased into the largest of the thrones and crooked his finger at Ophelia. “Come, harpy. You will sit beside me.”

Denials exploded inside Halo’s head.

To his surprise, she jutted her chin. “I’m not your pet. Go screw—”

The god flashed her to the dais, directly to his side.

Anhilla stirred within Halo. Inhale, exhale. She’ll be all right. Whatever happened, she would survive.


Tags: Gena Showalter Rise of the Warlords Fantasy