The Misbegotten (An Assassin's Blade Book 1) - Plot & Excerpts
Every bump sent my ass into the air, only to come crashing back down on the splintery seat. Turns were great fun. Without a hand to brace myself, my head would careen into the side posts. Hopefully I wouldn’t be dribbling and answering questions with grunts by the end of this journey. The despair my brother and I displayed didn’t go unnoticed by nature. The sun had gone into hiding and took the warmth with it. The clouds shifted from a milky white to a gloomy gray, spewing out fat drops of rain. This was the kind of rain you feel exploding on the back of your neck, ice oozing out and shivering across your shoulders. We’d left Erior first thing in the morning, loaded into a cart like fish plucked from the ocean and on the way to cutting boards. Braddock wasn’t even kind enough to make an appearance and wish us well. Neither was the enigma, Rivon Eyrie. So many questions for that man. The easy way out was to call him treasonous, hold a grudge till I died — which very well could happen sooner than later — and be done with it.
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