By Susan Grant
As a adorned soldier, the younger common Tao is familiar with just one form of honor—to his humans. but if his personal king betrays him, he discovers that his sacrifices, his successes, would possibly not were for the great of the rustic at all.Fate—and his enemies—throw him including Elsabeth, a red-haired attractiveness who has served because the royal instruct. Her loyalties, although, stay together with her father's humans, the rebellious Kurel, who worship the previous methods, even harboring the forbidden arks that introduced the Kurel to this planet a while in the past. while a risk more than their peoples' struggle looms, purpose on destroying the area they either understand, the fierce warrior and the delicate student needs to unite. jointly, they have to struggle for his or her planet, for his or her global and for his or her love.
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Extra resources for The Last Warrior
Servants had drawn heavy drapes against the suns, blocking out the light but holding in the dense air. A veritable army of other servants perspired as they operated giant cogs and wheels to spin ornate fans overhead, creating a much-needed breeze. Savory scents made Tao’s belly grumble and his mouth water. He’d eaten reasonably well in the encampments in the Hinterlands—plentiful game, fruits, nuts and vegetables—but it was a soldier’s diet prepared by his men or one of the female camp followers, not palace chefs who’d outdone themselves preparing a boggling array of delicacies.
By the holy arks of Uhrth, if it took her the rest of her life, she’d see the king responsible for the deaths of her parents and for violence against a peaceful people removed from the throne. Xim and all his cronies banished, forever and ever. CHAPTER ONE THROUGH A SPYGLASS, General Uhr-Tao peered at a row of lookout towers whose sentries surely were looking back at him. The spires of the palace they protected glowed like newly forged spearheads in the glare of two suns. Four full cycles had passed since he’d last ridden inside those massive fortified walls to attend the wedding of his sister to the man who was now king.
An intricate game, politics was, but in a tedious, manipulative, unfulfilling way. Tao preferred battlefield planning, where the aim was for the greater good, not to further one man’s ambitions. With dessert, the dancers returned to entertain them. Barely a shred of clothing covered their gyrating bodies. A curvaceous dancer, with her jeweled skin glistening and her eyes glowing with erotic promise, came spinning into his lap and kissed him. Perhaps some bed sport was what he needed to reacclimatize to Tassagonia.
The Last Warrior by Susan Grant