Roux cringed inside. Such disrespect was never tolerated from anyone. Ever. He gently explained, “A Commander may attend any event that transpires in his territory, with or without an invitation.”
To Roc, he spoke telepathically, using a mental link all Astra possessed.—Any punishment due to her, I will take.—From this moment on, he would protect the little girl and her mother from further hurt and harm. Because Isla was right; he owed them.
The Commander seemed to fight a smile.—My next words may be punishment enough. The next blessing task is set, and you are the contender.—
He frowned. Usually, they went in order of rank: Roc, Halo, then Silver, with Roux sixth. This guaranteed they worked the same task every five hundred years. This round, however, they battled for more than the blessing. They sought ascension. A rise in status and dominance, and a chance to obtain eternal freedom from the curse. Then, at long last, they would have the power to oversee the ultimate destruction of Erebus. For this reason, the Dark One, who pursued his own ascension, was allowed to change the order he faced his opponents as well as the tasks themselves.
“Come to the conference room the moment you tell her goodbye,” Roc told him before flashing off.
“No need to say goodbye,” the little girl said, offering Roux another of those calculating smiles. “I’ll be seeing you real soon.”
He noted the pain behind her expression this time, and he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not yet. “I know this means nothing to you but...” His jaw tensed. His throat tightened. Hands fisted, he sank to his knees, so that they were eye to eye. “I’m sorry I killed your father.”
The smile vanished. Her lower lip wavered. Tears welled, but she blinked them back. “You aren’t sorry,” she informed him with a firm tone. “But you will be. Now go. I’m done with you.”
Sighing, he forced himself to teleport to the conference room. An open space with a long table and ten chairs. Roc already stood at the head of the table, a tower of might with cropped dark hair, bronze skin heavily marked byalevala, and eyes of gold with striations of gray.
“Any questions?” the Commander prompted.
Many. But he’d start with the most important. “What am I to do?”
“There is a supposedly inescapable prison world known as Ation. You will venture there, apprehend the queen within twenty-nine days, and return to Harpina. On the thirtieth day, you will present your prisoner to Chaos and remove her heart with a trinite blade.”
Nothing out of the ordinary. All easily accomplished. So what was the catch? “What do you know of the queen?”
“Only that the current or former sovereign is a vampire, but the title can transfer to another at any time. Or has transferred. You may or may not meet the vampire but the one who rules after her. Or now.” Roc pinched the bridge of his nose. “The time difference between worlds is confusing. Sometimes it’s faster than ours, sometimes it’s slower, but everything equals out in the end. I’m not sure how it works. Just look for the one who wears the crystal crown.”
Halo Phaninon, their strategist, appeared, flashing into the room with Celestian “Ian” Eosphorus fast on his heels. The two flanked the Commander’s sides, the three creating a wall of ferocity.
Though the two weren’t related by blood, Halo resembled Roc in many ways. Similar brown hair, bronze skin, and odd golden eyes. And though Ian, who was black, looked nothing like the Commander, they shared the same parents.
The two males were just as different in temperament. Where Roc was all rough insistence and brute strength, his younger brother exuded unflappable confidence and smooth charm.
Both newcomers offered Roux a sympathetic wince. He kept quiet, waiting, as his mind whirled. Something had happened. What, what?
“Your suspicions were correct,” Halo informed the Commander. Once, he’d been known as the Machine. An emotionless husk Roux considered one of his closest friends. During his most recent task, however, Halo had found hisgravita. Now the warrior constantly exuded an enviable contentment Roux couldn’t understand. “She’s missing.”
She who? Ophelia, Halo’s mate? Taliyah?
“Erebus is overdue a spanking.” Ian stretched his fingers, as if warming up for the job. “He sent another phantom with a message to my quarters, confirming her location.”
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—wouldalways—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.”