Bile burned Blythe’s throat. How could a man hurt his own child in such a way? Parents were supposed to be protectors. The thought of purposely maiming her own daughter sickened her. That sickness worsened when she considered any young one, even the Astra, enduring such repeated anguish and agony.
The savagery she’d witnessed. The tormentor’s delight. Roux’s hopeless desperation.
Blythe tensed as a question struck. What did this realization mean for her vengeance? Something? Nothing? A traumatic past didn’t excuse what Roux had done to her family or her people. Nothing did. Nothingcould. Deep down, she still despised him, her determination to mete punishment unwavering. And yet, the sense of urgency had faded.
Stop allowing your hatred to be your coffin. Live your life. Find happiness.
Laban’s advice echoed inside her mind. Well, the hallucination’s advice.
Maybe Roux’s death could wait until the completion of his task? She could even turn the delay into a belated wedding gift to Taliyah. The newlyweds wouldn’t be condemned to five hundred years of defeat, forcing all of harpykind to go into hiding with the General and her Commander, simply to survive. A win-win for everyone but Erebus.
But what of the other consort-less harpies Roc and his army were responsible for? Was their vengeance to be delayed as well?
Although, they might be consort-less, but they were still harpies. What if they preferred to deliver their own brand of justice?
Okay. Wow. What a difference a small piece of information made in a person’s mindset. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t goodat all. If Blythe didn’t strike at the first opportunity, she was nothing but a fool. Right?
The shackles rattled as she plopped onto the foot of the bed. She sat statue still amidst a beam of silvery moonlight as Roux finished the door, returned to his chair, and dug items from his backpack. Weapons. A notebook and pen. More weapons. A pillow. Even more weapons. A can of soda. More weapons.
Who was he, Mary Freaking Poppins? What else was in that bag, and how soon could she steal it?
The crystal crown caught her eye. The circlet dangled from the side, as usual.Even more beautiful.
The urge to hold it and wear it resurged stronger. If she hadn’t been chained, she might have marched across the room to claim it. Who didn’t want to be queen? But, just as before, the urge tapered, allowing her to refocus on Roux. Mistake!
Candle after candle sparked to life on its own. More and more soft, golden light caressed the Astra, creating a glittering force field around his powerful body. Her heart rate quickened.
Head bowed, he wrote in the notebook and sipped his drink. Must be writing down observations about the realm and the women within; he concentrated with all his might.
He. The male who’d survived horrors of unimaginable proportions.
It wasn’t long before the sun rose, pouring morning light through the windows. A delicate wind snuffed out every candle. Smoke curled from the wicks, soon creating a hazy, dreamlike effect. Still Roux wrote.
A dozen times, Blythe opened her mouth to initiate a conversation. His task. His past. Their current predicament. A few questions about Isla. Had he seen the girl before coming here? How had she looked? Acted? But Blythe choked and stayed quiet. Maybe it was better not to know. And why make nice with Laban’s killer? Even if a hallucination had maybe kind of offered permission.
A firm rap at the door preceded the clicking of a lock. The gorgon she’d seen at the Oath Stones strolled inside the room, carrying a tray piled high with food. The snakes protruding from her scalp currently slept and hung well past her shoulders.
“Hello, gorgeous,” the other woman said. “I thought I might bring you a little me with a side of pancakes.”
The vampire, a harpy, a siren other than Miss First Date, and an Amazon elbowed each other in the hallway, fighting to be the first through the door on the gorgon’s heels. Each held a tray of her own and raved about the dishes.
“Grandma’s secret sexy recipe!”
“Guaranteed to stimulate your fiercest appetites.”
“Once you taste mine, you’ll forever pine. It’s a guarantee.”
The females jockeyed for the best spot to leave their offerings, utterly ignoring Blythe. Thank goodness. Oh, the utter humiliation of being bound to a bed in front of witnesses.
“By the way. Who gets to date you next?” Trayless now, the vampire anchored her hands on her hips. “We gotta have an answer so the lucky lady has time to prepare her nether regions for pound town.”
“Nether regions?” The Amazon elbowed her in the stomach. “We talked about this.”
“What? I didn’t want to sound crass while being crass.”
“We are picking up the pace,” Roux said without glancing up from his writing. “There will be multiple dates today. I’ll start with the first female to leave this room. She may return in one hour.”
The jockeying started up again, with the harpy making it into the hall first, the gorgon second, and the Amazon third. The harpy celebrated her victory with a smug little dance while the others pouted and threw fists. And daggers. Amid the brutal battle, someone accidentally shut the door—with someone else’s head. Suddenly Blythe and Roux were alone once again.