Fantasy of Freedom releases October 10th, 2016! Four weeks to go!
Snippet #3, Fantasy of Freedom by Kelly St. Clare, copyright Kelly St. Clare 2016.
We are both quiet. The only show of our emotions is how our hands interact, the grip tightening and relaxing at intervals.
His breath picks up. “You were right, sister.”
I tilt my head to him and watch as a red color steals across his high-boned cheeks.
“For some reason, her actions still take me by surprise. Mother’s. I never truly believed she would kill you until I heard Hare’s orders.”
Hare, now dead, had been the leader of the Elite. The Elite were my mother’s best soldiers. Usually they acted as her personal guard. But this time she had sent them on a special mission: to kill her daughter. I’d particularly enjoyed breaking Hare’s neck. Though probably not as much as he’d enjoyed breaking my leg when I was a child.
“You did the right thing by helping Glacium defeat our army.”
I gape at him, and a ghost of a smile appears on his face.
“You never thought to hear me say this,” he prompts.
That was one way of putting it. “No,” I say. “I thought you doubted the decision and hated me for it.”
I survey his face as he takes in my own. His admission astounds me. And gives me hope.
His words are stilted. “I am beginning to learn that when you lead, sometimes you must make decisions others won’t like. That you must assess the long-term situation and possibly make short-term sacrifices to get there.”
“I. . . .” My heart swells in my chest and prevents me from talking. I pull Olandon toward me and squeeze him tightly. “That means more to me than you know.”
He stays where he is, in my arms. “I apologize for questioning your motives, Tatuma.”
“Lina,” I correct, pulling back.
He smiles and ducks his head. “Lina.”
I laugh. “You’re eighteen. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
His smile grows to a grin. “You are only one year older.”
“Or two.”
He straightens. “We still do not know your true age.” He draws a rolled scroll from his coat.
Olandon still wears additional layers, though there’s only the occasional blizzard in the Sixth. I quickly got over the cold while living in the icy Outer Rings.
He holds the scroll out to me.
I arch an eyebrow and raise my hand to take it. “And this is?” A message from Jovan? It looks too big for that.
His tone is somber. “A list of the men who might be your father.”
To be continued…
Read snippets #1 & #2