Heartless

by Gena Showalter

  “Pearl Jean seeks a suitor? Very well. Only the best for our friend.”

  The bedroom door opened. Though no one peeked into the room, Pearl Jean called, “Sorry, but this is happening. He’s been a little monster, and I’m too busy coming down with a fae-cold.”

  The door closed after Sugars strode inside, the master of all he surveyed. He jumped on the bed, claiming a spot on the pillows.

  The cat had taken an instant liking to him. In fact, the little darling preferred him to anyone else, including Chantel. A fact she found highly amusing.

  Contentment cocooned Kaysar, as surely as Chantel’s vines often did. Life had never been better.

  Perhaps he and Chantel would spend some time searching for Viori. He kept Drendall on lock and key at the Midnight Court, awaiting his sister’s return. Until he found her or her body, he would not give up. Not again.

  All would be well.

  For the first time in his life, he believed it with every fiber of his being.

  * * *

  Read on for a sneak peek at New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter’s thrilling and sexy novel, The Warlord, the first book in her Rise of the Warlords series.

  The Warlord

  by Gena Showalter

  PROLOGUE

  Excerpted from The Book of Stars

  Author unknown

  THEY ARE ANCIENT WARRIORS, evil to the core and loyal only to one another. Known as the Astra Planeta, Wandering Stars, the Warlords of the Skies—the beginning of the end—they travel from world to world, wiping out enemy armies in a single battle. Drawn to war, they finish even the smallest skirmish with pain and bloodshed.

  To see these warriors is to know you’ll soon greet your death.

  With no moral compass, they kill without mercy, steal without qualm and destroy without guilt, all to receive a mystical blessing: five hundred years of victories without ever suffering a loss.

  If they fail to obtain this blessing, they automatically receive the curse: five hundred years of utter defeat.

  The time has come for the next bestowing, each Astra Planeta forced to complete a different task. To start, their leader, Commander Alaroc “Roc” Phaethon, Emperor of the Expanse, Rock of the Ages, Giant of the Deep, the Blazing One, must wed an immortal female of his choosing. Thirty days after the vows are spoken, he is to sacrifice this bride on an altar of his own making. If she dies a virgin, even better. He and his men receive a second blessing. If not...his greatest enemy receives it.

  The Commander has never wavered in his duty. He cannot. If one Astra fails to complete his task, all fail.

  Little wonder Roc will cross any line to succeed.

  There has never been a woman alluring enough to tempt him from his path. No warrioress powerful enough to overcome his incredible strength. No enchantress desirable enough to make him burn beyond reason.

  Until her.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Harpina, realm of the harpies

  2248 AG (After General)

  THE NIGHT OF her ninth birthday, Taliyah Skyhawk stalked through the royal Harpinian gardens amid a chorus of buzzing locusts and chirping birds. She approached a blazing firepit where multicolored flames crackled. Three moons painted surrounding thickets with an eerie, cerulean glow, the scent of skullflowers and smoke hanging heavy in the air, saturating her every inhalation.

  Her mother, Tabitha the Vicious, stood shoulder to shoulder with her aunt Tamera the Widow-maker and her fifteen-year-old cousin Blythe the Undoing—Taliyah’s idol. The armed trio created a wall of strength.

  “A death squad? Just what I wanted,” she quipped, but no one smiled.

  Rather, her mother readjusted her pose to better show off a sword made of fireiron. A material used to battle fae and other elemental species. “Kneel,” she ordered, her small fangs bright in the firelight.

  Excuse me? Taliyah’s gaze darted from one family member to the other. What was going on? Earlier, when Blythe requested a midnight meeting, Taliyah had expected a surprise party. Maybe a few games. Pin the dagger inside the enemy had always been a favorite.

  “Kneel,” Aunt Tamera echoed. She wielded a demonglass dagger, the best tool against angels and Sent Ones. Those who came from the heavens.

  Blythe gave a firm nod of encouragement. “Kneel.” She clutched a stake carved from cursedwood, the best defense against demons, witches, vampires and even harpies.

  Screw this. Taliyah narrowed her eyes. “I’ll kneel for my General because I respect the position, but only my General.”

  “Good answer.” Her mother smiled...and promptly swept Taliyah off her feet with a brutal kick.

  She crashed into a too-cold ground that never lost its chill, no matter the season, air abandoning her lungs. Without pause, she scrambled up.

  Her aunt’s gut punch sent her tumbling down once again. Stars winked through her vision, but still Taliyah scrambled up. No time to gloat. Blythe darted behind her and dipped low, slicing the tendons in her ankles.

  Pain flared as she hit her knees, breathing more difficult. Still she attempted to clamber up.

  Never accept a picture of defeat.

  She had to pick her poison. The pain of persevering or the agony of regretting. She chose perseverance, every time.

  Striving, struggling. Her lower body refused to cooperate, keeping her in a subservient position. Taliyah remained determined. You only lost when you quit.

  Panting, fighting harder, she glared up at women who should rejoice that she loved and trusted them. “Someone better tell me what’s going on before I rage.”

  Her mother’s eyes glittered in the darkness. “The time has come, daughter. In twelve months, you will leave your family to begin your combat training, just like the harpies before you. Unlike the others, you must train as you are meant to be, not as you are.”

  Wait. “This is some kind of ritual for status or something? Well, why didn’t you say so?” The tension drained from her. Until she replayed some of her mother’s words. “How am I meant to be?” Because she liked herself just fine, thanks.

  Ignoring her questions, her mother asked, “What do you want most in life, daughter?”

  “You already know the answer.” They’d had this conversation many times already.

  “Tell me anyway,” her mother commanded, her expression every bit as vicious as her moniker warned.

  With black hair, amber eyes and bronzed skin, the Vicious looked as fragile as an elf and as innocent as a Sent One. Even dressed in leather and chain mail, she appeared incapable of cursing, much less killing everyone around her.

  The white-haired, blue-eyed, pale Taliyah shared her mother’s delicate bone structure, but nothing more. Well, and her fiery temperament. “I fight to become harpy General.”

  These women had drilled the words into her head. At some point, the desire had become her own. For harpies, a General was the equivalent of a queen. The ruler who led her people to greatness. Who wouldn’t want to rule?

  Aunt Tamera lifted her chin, just as cold, beautiful and deadly as her younger sister. “What are you willing to do to achieve this goal?”

  “Anything.”

  “List them,” she insisted.

  Any harpy vying to become General must accomplish ten specific tasks. “I will serve in our army for a century and win the Harpy Games.” A series of contests meant to reveal strength, speed and agility. “I will convince the reigning General to do something she doesn’t want to do, and also present her with the head of her fiercest opponent. I’ll oversee a victorious military campaign, negotiate a major truce, steal a royal’s most prized possession, win a battle with my wits alone and sacrifice something I dearly love.”

  “You listed nine tasks. What of the tenth?” Her mother arched a brow. “When the time comes, you must challenge the reigning General to battle, no matter who she
is or what she means to you. Do you have the courage for this?”

  “I do.” As mandated, Taliyah would do it all while remaining a virgin, her body given to her people. Which wasn’t really a hardship, because gross. Boys were big babies. Break their faces, and they cried for days. “Nothing will stop me.”

  “Why will you do these things?” Tabitha asked.

  “Because I’m Taliyah Skyhawk, and nothing will rob me of my birthright.” Other words her mother had drilled into her head.

  As soon as she’d learned to walk, she’d begun to prepare for the privilege of becoming General. Something many harpies attempted, but few accomplished. But, from the very beginning, Taliyah had proved more determined than most.

  While others searched for ways around a problem, she grabbed the problem by the balls and squeezed. Others complained when a door of opportunity shut, then waited for another to open; she beat her way through whatever door she pleased with frightening focus.

  Everything happened for a reason? Yes. That reason often involved her fists.

  “You aren’t just Taliyah Skyhawk.” Her mother offered the barest hint of a grin, as if proud of her. “You will go by many names throughout your lifetimes, daughter. To others, you are the Cold-Hearted. To us, you are forever Taliyah the Terror of All Lands.”

  Terror of All Lands. Tal. A grin of her own spread. “I am the Terror of All Lands.”

  Her mother dipped her head in affirmation. “You are stronger, faster and far more powerful than other harpies. I made sure of that by handpicking the male I wished to father my first child.”

  Procreating by design was a common practice among harpies. A must when you were related to demons and vampires, and everyone referred to your species as “beautiful vultures.” Many armies hunted harpies for sport. Or worse!

  Nowadays, the harpies who decided to squirt out a couple of kids selected powerful males who produced more powerful children.

  “You speak of the snakeshifter,” Taliyah said, trying to hide her eagerness. Over the years, her mother had only ever shared the man’s species. For so long, she’d wondered...

  “He isn’t a snakeshifter. Not entirely. He is the creator of snakeshifters...and he’s only one of your fathers.”

  “What?” Um... “What? How many fathers do I have?”

  “There are two, and they are brothers, one able to possess the other, something you will never mention to others. Even your sisters cannot know.”

  Her gaze dropped to her mother’s rounded belly, where twins named Kaia and Bianka grew. She gulped.

  “Do you understand, Taliyah? We must take this secret to our graves. If ever anyone discovers the truth about your origins, you are to kill them without delay.”

  “But I don’t even know what I am now!” Reeling.

  “I’ll explain,” her aunt piped up. “Before your birth, the brothers appeared in Harpina every fifty years. One terrorized our villages, and we couldn’t stop him. The other mended the survivors. Sixteen years ago, the two appeared to me in secret and offered to spare us for a time...if I spent the night with them.” Her tone thinned. “Though I fought to become General, I agreed to their bargain. Nine months later, I gave birth to a healthy baby girl.”

  Tamera had given birth only once. Which meant...Blythe had two fathers, too? Wait. Blythe was Taliyah’s sister? Reeling faster.

  “Five years later,” her mother said, her tone just as tight, “the brothers reappeared. This time, they came to me, offering the same bargain. I agreed, despite my own bid to become General. Nine months later, I birthed you.”

  Taliyah licked her lips. So much to digest. Too much at once. She centered on the most difficult to accept, trying to make sense of it. Her fathers. In history class, she’d learned about twin brothers who’d done exactly as described. Warriors so powerful, they evinced terror in everyone they faced. Not just warriors. The sons of a god.

  “I’m a daughter of Asclepius Serpentes and Erebus Phantom, sons of Chaos.” The words tasted odd on her tongue.

  Asclepius was known as the Bringer of Life, a god of medicine able to raise certain immortals from the dead. He was also the creator of snakeshifters and gorgons.

  Erebus was his opposite. Known as the Bringer of Death, he destroyed whatever he touched. His contribution to immortal species? The creation of phantoms. Mindless soldiers able to take both spirit and bodily form. To survive, these phantoms consumed the souls—the very life—of the living. A grotesque act to harpies. To all immortals, really.

  The two were gods in their own right, yes, but they came from a greater god known as the Abyss. That meant... I came from the Abyss.

  Well, of course I did! Frankly, she was amazing. A defender of all harpykind.

  “Where are the brothers now?” Oops. Did she sound too eager? Harpies weren’t supposed to care about such matters.

  Her mother hiked a shoulder, the answer clearly of no importance to her. “Rumors suggest the two picked a fight with the wrong warlords, men who once served as Chaos’s personal guards. They killed the brothers, but Erebus came back...wrong.”

  So, one father was dead and gone. The other lived, but not well. Her stomach churned. “Does Erebus know about me? Does Chaos?” Would they visit her? A flicker of hope sparked. Maybe they’d want to get to know her or something.

  “If they know of you, daughter, they care not. You are nothing to them, and they are nothing to you.”

  “Right.” Her shoulders rolled in the slightest bit. “Good riddance, I say. Who needs them?” She did just fine on her own. Better than fine! The best! The pang in her chest bore no significance to the situation.

  “You’re right. You don’t need them. Soon, you’ll wield abilities beyond your wildest imagination.”

  She perked up at the thought of new power. “What abilities?” And how soon?

  “You won’t know until you’ve shed your first skin for your second,” Blythe told her. The black-haired, blue-eyed beauty smiled and—Taliyah gasped. Her irises! Specks of black shimmered in their depths. “If you’re like me, you’ll push your spirit from your body, possess others, communicate with the dead, walk in the spirit world to spy on your enemies and recover from any death...even your first.”

  Her first? She zoomed her gaze to the weapons. Realization punched Taliyah, leaving her winded. Her family planned to kill her and raise her as a phantom.

  Warring impulses surged, one after the other. Flee. Protest. Cheer. Die? In the end, she bit her tongue and remained silent. What mattered more than her dream? To walk in the spirit realm and spy on her enemies, to recover from death...

  She would do anything. There’d be no greater General.

  “I, too, fight for the right to rule,” her cou—sister said. “When the time comes, the two of us will be forced to battle for the honor. But it will be a fair fight. Fair and right.”

  “Fair and right,” Taliyah repeated with a nod. “But I’m still going to win.” Facts, and all.

  Blythe gifted her with another grin, there and gone. “We shall see.”

  “Like your half sister, you will only ever use your new powers in secret.” Her mother’s harsh statement cut through the night, the slightest tremor shaking her. “Erebus and Chaos have enemies who will stop at nothing to apprehend and use you, if ever your identity is discovered. Do you understand? For all we know, the gods themselves will want you dead.”

  Though she feared nothing, Taliyah offered a clipped assertion. When had the Vicious ever trembled? “I understand.”

  Satisfied, her mother lifted the fireiron sword. The dark metal glinted in the moonlight. “Are you prepared to die to become the phantom you were meant to be, my daughter?”

  No! “I...am?” Though she hadn’t yet lived a decade, Taliyah had already participated in two major battles. The first with Sent Ones—winged assassins of the skies—and the othe
r with wolfshifters. She’d watched friends enter the hereafter in the most painful ways, helpless to save them.

  If dying today meant better protecting harpykind tomorrow, so be it.

  Harpies today. Harpies forever.

  “I am,” she offered with more confidence, jutting her chin.

  “So be it.” Her mother repositioned into a battle stance, and Tamera and Blythe followed suit. “May your end serve as your beginning.”

  That said, Tabitha shoved the fireiron straight into Taliyah’s heart.

  Searing pain exploded through her. Blood rushed up her throat and out her mouth, choking her. All thoughts of dying for a cause vanished, survival instincts kicking in. Taliyah fit shaky hands around the hilt and pushed outward. Can’t breathe. Need to breathe.

  “May your loss serve as our gain.” Without a shred of mercy, Aunt Tamera thrust the demonglass next to the fireiron.

  More searing pain. More blood gurgled from the corners of her mouth. Weakness invaded her limbs, and tears welled.

  “May your return serve as an eternal reminder. Death has lost its sting, the grave has lost its power.” Blythe slammed the wooden stake beneath the other two weapons.

  The agony! Excruciating and unending. A loud ring erupted in Taliyah’s ears. So cold. Dizzy. What little remained of her strength abandoned her in a rush. Already hobbled, she fell.

  Impact rattled her brain against her skull—a skull quickly wetted by an outpour of her blood. All she could do was peer up at a spinning night sky. Dazzling stars beckoned her closer...

  She fought. She fought hard, because she couldn’t not fight. Warped by the blades, her destroyed heart raced. Slowed. Until...

  It stopped.

  Taliyah wheezed a final exhalation, every muscle in her body going lax. Maybe she died, maybe she didn’t. A part of her remained aware, but without time. She floated in a sea of darkness, the barest pinpricks of light blinking here and there, reminding her of the stars. All pain faded.