Latest Page I've worked on for my Novel Prince's Priest:
A hand gripped my shoulder, forcibly turning me around. My back pressed against the boulder and John glared at me. I froze, my blood running cold. Did John take it? One arm stretched out, a firm palm beside my head to trap me. The corners of his mouth curved downward in a deep scowl and I searched his eyes. He had followed me, watched me dig around like a child dawdling in the mud. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, waiting for the words he was gathering.
There’s nothing I could possibly say without knowing what he thinks I’m out here doing.
“You’re looking for the dagger.” It wasn’t a question; it was a declaration. “Worst, you were considering giving it to the Viceroy.”
He does know, he does understand the full weight of what is happening.
I looked away in shame, but John leaned into my view. I could see my own maroon eyes flash in his and confessed, “To protect you. He’s planning something big, I know it, and I have nothing to bargain your safety with unless…”
He inhaled deep, holding it there before he let it go. “How about you tell me why I found you here all those years ago. Who are you really, Dante?”
Don’t make me say it. I don’t want to let those words loose in fear you’ll send me away.
I leaned forward to brush him off. His palm pulled from the boulder and shoved me back. The anger seethed through him with his palm hot against my chest. My stare broke from his face, afraid he could read my thoughts. Glaring at his hand, my chest rising and falling with its calculated strength effortless. He too had scarred knuckles, the aftermath of sword training. My own anger was starting to run through my veins, he wasn’t supposed to shed blood. That was my job, that’s why I sacrificed myself for him.