Invanine
Miriam Newman
He was her slave
in one land, her lover in another. When
the king’s sister saves a rebel from a troubled province, her act of mercy
changes her life forever.
RATING: PG13
EXCERPT:
When they made the long slow turn at the
river, she caught a glimpse of the rear of the procession. Yes, there were the
prisoners still, most of them somehow still walking though they were roped to
horses that dragged them every inch of the way. The riders seemed careful not
to kill them just yet, which suggested an even worse fate when they reached the
city once more. Some sort of execution platform would have been erected in
their absence—something that didn’t require too much time. Lucien would not
give rebels the honor of a protracted lifespan, though he might draw out their
deaths if it pleased him. She already knew it would please him.
That
was why she maneuvered Cloud adroitly to come up beside him when they reached
the square in Primecta. He nodded very slightly, signifying that she might join
him.
“You
do me credit, Sister,” he complimented her. “Most women shrink from flaying.”
It
explained the relative lack of preparation. Little panoply was required to
simply whip a man to death in the street.
“Oh,
I shrink, Lucien,” she assured him, with a brilliant carmine smile for the
onlookers. “But never in public. I only thought…”—she let her smile grow
winsome, “…perhaps as an act of mercy you might give me one for a slave. You
did not gift me for my birthday, after all.”
“The
horse was your gift,” he said, shortly, but she could see the thought had
engaged him. Crowds were fickle. There was no telling how the people would
react to the first public execution in years, though his agents had been hard
at work stirring up emotion against Parthia. His father had left him an
untroubled kingdom. Now, under governance of the stick, there were rumors of
dissent.
“Just
one?” she wheedled. “I care not which.”
“Oh,
all right,” he said, with an eye to the crowd. “You choose. If you let him
escape, however, I will not forget it.”
Invanine
surveyed the motley bunch, her heart beating strongly. Lucien did not have a
forgiving nature. Was it worth risking his anger to save a life? Her slaves
never tried to escape; they knew how good they had it. It would be a real
headache containing one who did want to leave. And yet—this was neither war nor
sport. It was slaughter. Her hunter’s heart rebelled against it.
There
were several men, all gaunt and bearded, all young. Several had sunk to the
ground, unable to stand, but the guard had not bothered to beat them for it.
They were going to die momentarily, so why bother? A couple were spitting on
their captors and those were beaten. Another stood apart showing no emotion—no
capitulation, no defiance. He looked like the soul had already left his body.
Invanine pointed to him with her quirt.
“That
one.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Fantasy poetry driven by myths and legends has
been Miriam’s passion for as long as she can remember. She was published in poetry before catching
the romance writing bug. She brings that
background to her writing along with a lifelong addiction to horses, an 18 year
career in various areas of psychiatric social services and many trips to
Ireland, where she nurtures her muse.
Her published works range from contemporary fantasy romance to fantasy
historical, futuristic, science fiction and historical romance. Currently she lives in rural Pennsylvania
with a “motley crew” of rescue animals.
Thanks for hosting my book on this gorgeous blog!
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