When he put his eye back to the tent, Traeburhn lounged in a camp chair in the tent’s centre, and Bradlin stood before him, his head bowed. Lyram’s already scalding anger surged higher, and he clenched his fists in the dirt and gravel beneath his feet. Tiny pebbles dug hard into the flesh of his palms, distracting from the almost irresistible urge to put a blade in Traeburhn’s chest. His breath whistled through clenched teeth. If he started with Traeburhn, then where would it end? With a knife in Drault’s chest, and it was high treason to attack the heir apparent.

He tightened his hand on the knife. Carefully, he inserted the blade back into the canvas and began widening the cut. If he worked too quickly to enlarge the slit enough for him to climb through, the noise would surely alert the occupants, if not any nearby guards.

A hand seized his wrist.

* * *

Thanks for dropping by! Don’t forget, this is a first draft, and as such won’t be perfect – while the bones of the story are there, enough to give you a glimpse into the tale of these characters, I typically do at least eight drafts so you can expect the final version to bear little resemblance to what I post here.

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More about In the Company of the Dead

Wrong Way Around

Son of a duke and third in line for the throne, Lyram is exiled to a lonely castle after striking his prince – but when the castle is besieged, he fears the prince means to remove him more permanently.

Hope arrives in the form of the Left Hand of Death, the woman bound to serve the goddess Ahura in battle. But the priestess has not come for the siege – instead she hunts the castle for a hidden necromancer dedicated to the god of decay.

Within his stone prison, Lyram must fight to save himself from both political machinations and clashing gods. But as the siege lengthens, his greatest threat comes from an unexpected quarter.

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