“Leaving AM, Giliahna, Mairee and the apprentice physician to look out for each other, he had stalked out, snarling, “If the bitch wants blood, I’ll give her blood, though she may not like the color of the stuff I shed.” He prowled the corridors and rooms of his dead father’s hall, looking for prey. Once divested of his porridge-caked clothing, Father Skahbros had not redressed himself, rather he had wrapped his pudgy body in a bath sheet, gathered up fresh clothing and padded down to the ba...th chambers in the north wing. And that was where his coldly raging nemesis found him… and dealt with him. Tim paced back down the old, familiar hallway, his left hand on the well-worn basket hilt of his heavy broadsword. Through the pantries, into the winter kitchen. A burly cook—a kath-ahrohs by the cast of his dark-olive skin, black eyes and hair—gripping a big, greasy knife made at first to bar the passage of this apparent northern barbarian mercenary in patched boots and stained clothing.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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