The lack of stardust no longer bothered him...much. Mostly her reaction to its absence did him in. Sometimes she peered at his hands, her countenance swinging between infinite longing and soul-crushing disappointment. Soon after, he would catch her staring at nothing, lost in thought. The few times he’d questioned her about it, she’d shrugged him off and changed the subject. But he knew.
Would she tire of waiting for the stardust and leave him? The very idea tore at his insides.
“There’s going to be another labor today,” she said, her tone pointed.
“Yes.” As usual, they both sensed its approach.
“For the good of our mission, we should get rid of this distracting sexual tension between us.”
“Promise me forever then.”
She tried another route instead. “How about this? For the good of our mission, we should keep me strong. Pleasure helps do that.”
“I constantly examine you for the most minute signs of weakness. If ever you display one, I will relent. Until then...you know what you must do.”
She glared at him. “Erebus wants us miserable. Why are we aiding him?”
“I’m not living for the moment.” He stole another swift kiss. “I’m living for tomorrow. I want more, Elia.”
“So?” She clutched his shirt, wrinkling the material, and pouted, “I want your body, but I’m not getting it.”
“We have a busy day, anyway.” Beginning with a tea party. The honored guest? His former concubine. Ophelia had insisted on a get to know the Amazon session.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “Just know you are kind of the worst.”
“Noted.”
They finished dressing in silence. He couldn’t wait to be out of this godsforsaken time loop, when Ophelia could move into his bedroom permanently, her things mixed with his, her scent infusing everything.
—Halo, there’s a problem.—Ian’s voice filled his head, snatching his attention. —This morning you listed everything that’s happened throughout the task, but you omitted a mention of Taliyah and Blythe’s catfight. Roc isn’t happy.—
A fight between Taliyah and her half sister? That was new. But then, despite the repeating day, no two mornings had played out the same. Each time the Astra and harpies learned about the time loop and their memories erased, their tempers flared ten degrees hotter than ever before.
Another valuable lesson he’d learned. Just when he memorized everyone’s routine, something changed. The slightest adjustment altered everything else. Even the smallest decision mattered, shaping the road ahead.
“What’s wrong?” Ophelia asked, aware of his sudden unrest.
“There’s been a development. We are needed.” Halo flashed her to the palace foyer, where groups of harpies congregated before the mantel. Nothing unusual there. But those harpies now formed a growing, chanting circle around the General and Blythe. The blonde and the brunette. Both possessed slender frames, blue eyes—and no mercy.
“Fight, fight, fight,” Ophelia called, shoving her way through the crowd.
He dogged her heels, unwilling to let her out of his range.
“Are you seeing this, Sweetheart?” a harpy called from the front line, waving her closer.
“How is that moniker sticking, despite the memory loss?” she muttered. Then she called, “That isn’t my name. I’m Ophelia...something.” Nothing struck her as “the one.”
At the head of the throng, the battling harpies came into view. The ferocity of each strike staggered him. The females were family. Despite their love for each other, they did not temper their blows. Blood dripped from multiple wounds.
“Is this a challenge for leadership?” he asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” she replied.
Ian, Roc, and three other Astra also occupied the circle. Ian grinned. Roc seethed. Silver looked as though he was taking each harphantom’s measurements for a cage, while Azar, the Astra memory keeper, observed with unshakable concentration, absorbing every detail. Sparrow, an uncompromising voice of peace, waited calmly for a chance to intervene.
Bleu, Vasili and Roux were missing. Made sense. Bleu, their spymaster, excelled in the shadows. Vasili never interacted well with others, especially females. And Roux avoided everything Blythe.
The warlord had done more than kill her consort during the invasion. He’d also unwittingly harbored Blythe and her daughter within himself. Fearing for Isla’s life, and her own, Blythe had forced her daughter to disembody and hide within her own body. Then, she too had disembodied and slipped inside Roux without his knowledge. Like living nesting dolls.
The two females would have died if Taliyah hadn’t extracted them. Blythe had yet to confront Roux about any of it, but her hatred for him was clear.
“Don’t you dare do it,” Taliyah spat as she punted her sister in the stomach. “Claiming a blood vendetta against Roux will only hurt harpykind.”
Ah. A blood vendetta. Revenge. A death for a death. This was nothing new for harpies.
“Do you think he can’t defend himself?” Blythe shouted with a brutal punch to the General’s jaw.
Taliyah whipped to the side, blood spraying from her mouth. She recovered quickly, the sisters launching at each other, rolling over the floor. “Do you think Daddy Dearest won’t use our strife to his advantage?”