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“I am my own,” she said, rising and sauntering past him. “You know what? There’s less than a minute left. I think I’ll go ahead and jump to the finale.”
The Astra watched their comrade do nothing to the goddess, now utterly shellshocked. A panting Rathbone watched her, obviously gutted.
“I’ve waited so long for this.” Lore stopped several feet from the crowd and smiled again, unabashed by her nudity. “But I don’t think you’re going to enjoy what happens next.”
They shouted protests. She spread her arms, tilted her head toward the ceiling, and released a blood-curdling scream.
Shadows exploded from her being. Hundreds of them. They flew across the room, taking shape. Small, disproportionate monsters with spindly arms and legs, scales, and razor-sharp teeth. A glowing gold circle ringed their pupils. They solidified midair and surrounded the audience. Then, they feasted, devouring warriors and harpies alike. Everyone but Erebus.
The Deathless laughed, clapping as Astra and harpies died in agony. And the shadows weren’t even done. They flew out of the throne room, ravenous for their next meal.
The vision cut off, and Neeka recoiled with horror.
As reality replaced the future, she shuddered. No wonder she’d sensed the end of harpykind.
Pressing a hand to her churning belly, she struggled to catch her breath and meet her companion’s gaze. To tell him what she’d seen or not? Surely he would realize the importance of preventing such a catastrophic outcome.
He towered in front of her, glaring with the intensity of a thousand suns. “What did you see? Tell me.”
Instinct shouted,Admit nothing!The man who’d spent many a millennium searching for his dismembered wife wouldn’t trust a warning issued by an oracle linked to his enemy. But he would be incensed enough to fire her, perhaps literally, preventing said oracle from sabotaging his efforts so she could change the future. And she must change the future.
Not an impossible task. Alter this and that, and you also altered your fate. But what this? What that?
Neeka raised her chin. At least she knew her endgame: Stop the regeneration of the goddess. To do that, she had two choices. Prevent the acquisition of the four remaining bones, leading Rathboneandthe Astra on a wild goose chase. Or disappear the skeleton altogether. Whichever proved easiest.
If ever the king discovered her true motives...
No. He wouldn’t. She was smart enough to stay fifty—twenty-five...ten...at least one or two—steps ahead of him at all times. No big deal.
A humorless laugh escaped.
“Oracle,” Rathbone grated, gripping her shoulders. “What. Did. You. See?”
Thinking fast, she muttered, “The coming friction with the Astra Planeta. So many died. Or die.” Oh, how they were going to hate her. Far more than she’d realized. But now she knew why she’d needed to say yes to Rathbone, what danger threatened her beloved people, and what she must do to save the day.
“If you’re afraid...don’t be afraid,” he commanded. “I won’t allow the warlords to harm you.”
He assumed she feared? Neeka wrenched from his clasp. “How dare you, you...you...swine!” Why, the nerve of this male! “I have out-partied a wolf, survived a round of hot box with a dragon, and won a staring contest against Medusa. I fear nothing! Visions tire me out, that’s all. I require rest.R.E.S.T.” Not that she would indulge. Harpies didn’t sleep near anyone but a consort. Their fated mate. The only male in existence able to calm their rages. Among other things.
“Very well. You may rest for one night.” He craned his neck to stare at Skeletoria, his expression glazing with adoration once again. “By the way, you did an adequate job today.”
“I know.” Wait. Had she read his lips wrong because she watched him in profile, or had he used the description ‘adequate’? Oh, the very suggestion burned. “I did an amazing job. Five-star. Ten even!”
He hiked his shoulders without looking away from his obsession. “Go. Select a room. We’ll start again in the morning.”
She narrowed her lids. “Yes. We will.” Just not the way he supposed.
Tonight, she considered her options. Tomorrow the sabotage began.
4
As the sun rose on the Realm of Agonies, Rathbone shut the book he’d been reading. The only bit of history he’d found on the Astra. He turned off the mortal soap opera he’d left playing in the background, stored his secret stash of chocolate chip cookies in a nightstand drawer, and stalked to his dresser to pour himself a glass of ambrosia to hopefully subdue the wild energy crackling inside him.
He changed his mind while standing there, as he always changed his mind whenever he wished to imbibe. Drink from the “victory decanter” before Lore’s resurrection? No. Not until they could toast their future.
Soon...
Anticipation pricked him. Only four bones to go. Three if the oracle had another vision today.
