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The warrior’s gaze bore into Kassandra from beneath his burnished bronze helm. It was him. The Warlord. The one leading his Myrdinian army across Anatolia like a swarm of locusts, destroying all in his path.

He swung off his horse and strode across the blood-drenched beach to where she stood between two guards. “I’ll put her in my tent.”

Her knees turned to jelly, and she swayed. Hands bound in front of her, she dug her toes into the sand to keep her balance. She wouldn’t collapse. “I’m a priestess of Suilani. I’m devoted to the goddess and a vessel for prayers only.” A priestess—and her vow of chastity—was supposed to be sacred and respected. Maybe, just maybe, he believed in the sanctity of the temple rituals and would leave her alone. Maybe he didn’t know who she truly was.

The hard gaze didn’t change. “You may have been in a temple, but we know you’re the Sardi princess. We found your letters to the king.”

She swallowed down panic. “I cast off my former life to follow the goddess.”

“Must have been a fickle following considering your letters begged to return home.”

She sagged. No true priestess would want to leave her temple. “That was …” Her mind went blank. “That was?—”

“Enough. No Sardi cares enough about matters of the soul to leave their life behind for worship. You were there to hide.”

A lick of wind swept across her face, but it didn’t bring the familiar tang of ocean air. It held the acrid bite of blood. As a girl, this stretch of beach in front of Sarda City was where she chased after seagulls and built sand fortresses. Now trenches lashed like gaping wounds in the earth, and towering funeral pyres awaited fallen comrades. As her letters echoed, she’d longed to come home, but this place was no longer home. She gestured toward the desolation around them. “And you care about matters of the soul? How many have you slaughtered?”

One of her guards growled. “She has the typical Sardi airs. Let me put her in the prisoner quarters and make her wait on the men.”

Kassandra shivered. Only two fates awaited females taken during war, either a lifetime of menial labor or slaking the lust of soldiers. Every single one of these Myrdinians was an Alpha, and she was an Omega. They’d want to lay their hands on her, to be satisfied in a way only an Omega could provide.

Why hadn’t her brother, the king, crushed them? Sarda, her home city, was impenetrable, its walls vast and high. Yet the gates to the city stood open, and the Myrdinians sauntered about as if they ruled.

“No. I have plans for her.” He turned to a broad man with biceps the size of a pig’s hind leg and a scar from his cheek to his ear. “Gather the commanders near the boats in an hour.” He grabbed the end of the rope binding her wrists, and led her away like he would a horse. “And tell Greta to come to my tent.”

Kassandra’s knees almost buckled at the first step. Her sandals had long since fallen apart, and she’d walked barefoot for most of the two-day journey. Her feet felt like someone had wrapped them in thorns and let them dig and fester. But she wouldn’t limp. This rabble wouldn’t see her pain. Never show weakness.

The Myrdinian camp lay behind a wooden spiked barricade, its rough-hewn points aimed toward Sarda. The freshly cut wood emitted a whiff of pine as the Warlord led her through a small gap serving as an entrance. One main road bisected the camp and ran down to the sea, where ships with arched, intricately carved prows bobbed offshore. She gasped. Hundreds of vessels lay moored at the beach. Hundreds.

This wasn’t the disorganized rebellion by a few city-states to the south that she’d heard about at the temple. This was a massive uprising by sea, something no one had ever dared try before.

He towed her farther into the heart of the camp. Tents ran in perpendicular rows, forming straight footpaths. Cooking smoke filled the air, pushing away the coppery stench of blood as men milled around their living quarters. The rhythmic clang of a hammer on armor pounded from somewhere to the right, like the bang of a drum. The Warlord was marching her into the Minotaur’s labyrinth, without a string to show her the path for escape.

They reached a large tent with a taut, white animal skin stretched as a roof over wooden walls. The wind kicked up, making the tent shudder a welcome as she stepped inside.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust in the dim light, but slowly, the features of the room revealed themselves. A massive bed stretched low along most of the back wall. The heavy, smooth bedframe was piled with the shaggy skins of northern mountain sheep. She loved her sheep blankets when she lived in the palace, but such luxury wasn’t allowed at the temple. Not even during the glacial winter months when ice coated the inner stone walls and floor of her bedroom.

A copper basin, large enough that two people could sit in it with room to spare, nestled along one side of the tent, and a table loaded with food and vessels of wine and water occupied the other. Two chairs rimmed a small table cluttered with several books and a map stretched across it.

Books? Warrior Alphas didn’t read. They were tools pointed at a fight and told what to do. Most likely, someone in this horde assisted him with his plans.

The Warlord took a knife from his belt and reached for her.

As she leaped back, pain shot through her feet. Crying out, she toppled sideways, but he caught her before she fell. For one long moment, he remained motionless, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him. He should smell like a horrid, disgusting blend of blood, manure, and sweat, but he didn’t. He smelled like a cedar forest during a warm summer day, all rich and mysterious, and welcoming.

With a hiss, he stepped back. Gripping her wrists, he sawed through her bindings in one quick motion.

“Every inch of this camp is guarded. You can’t take a single step without me knowing about it.” It wasn’t easy to discern the shade of his eyes under his helm, but they seemed to darken. “If you try to run, I’ll catch you. It won’t go well for you afterward.”

Better not let him catch her then.

“You’ll stay here. Accessible to me whenever I want you.” He pointed toward the table. “Go get the water jug.”

Her brows shot up. “The water jug?”

He growled, low and menacing, but instead of shying away, something low in her abdomen clenched.

“Do what I say.” In a flash, he picked her up, moving so quickly that she barely registered it until she was already in his arms. He dropped her into a chair, then snatched a copper jug from the table. “I said to drink.”

“No, you said to get the jug.”

He scowled and shoved the pitcher at her lips.

She reached for it, then snatched her hand back. “You poisoned it.”

He growled again, and her stomach reacted with the same funny little flip. What was wrong with her?

He put the jug to his own lips and took a long swallow. His throat flexed, and a drop slid from his mouth down the side of his neck. He was so powerful, even his neck looked strong. She’d met many Alphas, but he was easily the biggest, so tall he had to be close to seven feet.

He shoved the jug at her again. “You’re no longer a spoiled Sardi princess. The sooner you accept that, the better.”

The jug hung between them. Being ordered to take it made her want to do the exact opposite. Except sand coated her tongue, and her throat felt like day-old bread left in the sun. Scowling, she plucked it from him. “You dragged me from the temple to tell me I’m no longer a spoiled princess? Surely you could have sent a note.” She tipped the jug back and drank before saying, “I’m no threat to you. Release me.”

“A threat? No. The Sardi are no longer a threat. I’ve conquered Sarda City, and soon I’ll find the king and crush what remains of the Sardi army.”

She jolted, then shifted on the chair, trying to hide the impact of his words. Her brother was still alive. But where was he? Why wasn’t he here with his superior army, defending their home? When her father lived, he would never have let the seat of the Sardi empire, the jewel of Anatolia, be captured by Myrdinian rebels. “Then release me.”

“I’ve conquered Anatolia, and now I intend to snuff out all the lies the Sardi have choked us with for the past half-century.” He leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “First, I’ll start with destroying the Blood Laws. And you will help me.”

“The Blood Laws are sacred.”

The Blood Laws maintained the strength of family lines. Through them, people were guided to their best matrimonial match. Sardi wed Sardi. Myrdinian wed Myrdinian. Maybe it rankled some that all marriages needed to be approved by the Sardi. But they knew best.

His lips twisted into a snarl. “They’re lies used to keep Anatolia subservient to Sardi rule.”

“And what do you expect me to do? Tell the people of Anatolia everything will be better with you in charge?” She huffed out a bitter laugh. “Have you been struck in the head by a sword too many times? I won’t do that.” She swallowed another long drink of water.

“No. Your role is simpler than that. I’ll show all of Anatolia the Blood Laws are gone by proving it to them. You’re here to carry my child. Sardi blood and Myrdinian blood will be intermingled.”

She choked and bent over to cough so hard she gagged. This was so much worse than she’d expected, and she’d expected a lot. Not only was he planning to keep her at his side for months, maybe even years, but no Sardi would ever accept her as one of them again. The Blood Laws were sacred and rigid. She’d be cast aside for polluting Sardi blood.

No. This couldn’t happen. She needed to get out of there and find her brother. She clutched the jug until her knuckles turned white.

Think! She had to convince the Warlord this was a bad idea. “Don’t you find it odd an Omega Sardi princess was promised to the goddess when my father could have wed me to a prominent leader? He could have forged a powerful alliance.”

His lips tightened, and a scar on his upper lip became more visible. “You were hidden there. Not cast away.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve been there for four years.” She tried to take another sip of water, but her hands shook so badly she lowered it to her lap. “I was sent to be a virgin priestess for the rest of my life because I’m defective.” Her cheeks grew hot. “I don’t go into heat, so I can’t bear you a child.” All of those things were true, but it wasn’t why she was sent to the temple.

He sneered and walked toward the door. “Stop lying to me. Your survival depends on me and my moods.”

Her cheeks grew hotter. Here she was, spilling her most private details before him, and he didn’t believe her. “I’m twenty-eight. Why else wouldn’t I have been married by now?”

He grunted, and his lips twisted. “We’ll see, Princess.” He spat the word like it was something foul on his tongue. “Sardi rule is over.”

She shook her head. “Your lust for death will only bring about your end.”

His gaze grew so cold she shivered. “You know nothing.”

“I know about your prophecy.” Her hands now steady, she raised the jug again. “Even tucked away in the temple, we heard things. You have a choice. Die young in battle, or live a long, life without glory. A fulfilled life. One with family.” She took a long drink of water and eyed him. “Considering we’re on a battlefield, I think it’s clear what choice you’ve made.”

The Warlord tilted his head slightly. “Prophecies are simply silly tales for fools. Sorry to disappoint you, but my death isn’t imminent, and I have no interest in having a mate.”

“Don’t ignore the strength of prophecy.” She didn’t dismiss prophecy the way he did. However, in this case, she hoped he was right, and the tales about him were simply fables because rumors about his prophecy weren’t the only tales told about him. They said he was unkillable. Blessed by the gods.

“We all die.” His lips twisted into a cruel smile. “In the meantime, I’ll free Anatolia of Sardi tyranny. And you’ll walk through every town in Anatolia, showing your bloodline now lies matched with mine.”

Any response shriveled up on her tongue.

“Someone is coming to help you bathe.” He pointed at the table and opened the door. “Eat.” The hot summer sun cast half of him in golden light, its rays glinting off the armor that covered him, but his face was in darkness, and she still didn’t know what he fully looked like before he turned and shut the door.