Today I'm going to share with you one of the flashbacks from my forthcoming novel Unclean, the sequel to Hexborn. As in Hexborn, I start every chapter except the first one with a flashback from either Shiloh's or Silas's past. It will give you your first peek at the books' primary villain, Brother Fenroh. Fenroh is the illegitimate son of the Patriarch, who is the series's equivalent of the Pope. And he is bad news, indeed. Enjoy, and don't forget to pre-order your copy of Unclean.
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Young Silas stood in the foyer of the Patriarch’s mansion in the Claw, trying not to twitch as he awaited a response to Alissa’s letter. At least it’s warm in here, he thought. He’d spent twenty hours straight in the saddle, and the weather had been none too pleasant. His stomach growled.
A boy a few years his senior pushed open heavy doors and strode toward him. His gray robes hung pristine from his lanky frame, and Silas was acutely conscious of the mud on his own boots.
“His Holiness requires more time to compose a reply,” the boy said importantly. “You may take a meal in the kitchen and bunk with the guards.”
“May I, honored brother?” Silas replied drily.
The boy glared at him. “You ought to be grateful for the Patriarch’s kindness.”
“Oh, I am, I assure you,” Silas told him. It was a challenge to hide his disdain. “If you would direct me toward the kitchen, honored brother?”
“I’ll show you. I don’t intend to have you traipsing all over this holy residence unescorted,” the boy replied.
They passed another priest in the corridor. The older man half-bowed to the boy, greeting him with, “Brother Fenroh.”
Silas raised his eyebrows. “You’re someone important’s son, I take it, honored brother?” he asked Fenroh.
The boy grinned savagely. “Only if you consider a God to be important.”
Silas followed Fenroh out toward the barracks, cursing Edmun silently for sending him on this mission. The Patriarch’s compound made his skin crawl, and his creepy son was probably planning to stare at Silas the whole time he ate, as though his every bite was suspect.
As they entered the courtyard, his host stopped short. A group of guards stood in a circle, laughing and tormenting a woman. They shot hexes at her bare feet, forcing her to dance to avoid their sting. At the sight of Fenroh, the guards came to attention.
“What is this about?” Fenroh asked, his voice somehow both silky and sharp.
“She stole from the collection plate at the temple out by Wilsar Creek, honored brother,” one of them explained with a bow.
“Is this true?” Fenroh asked the unfortunate creature.
“No, I would never!” she protested. Tears had carved lines through the dirt on her face. If she stole, it was because she was starving, Silas thought, taking in her bony shoulders and ragged clothes.
Fenroh looked at the guards, eyebrows raised. “Brother Tytoh caught her red-handed,” one of them offered.
That seemed to be enough for Fenroh. Silas stepped back as the boy drew his wand. A curse crackled, and Silas heard the crunch of bone an instant before the screaming came. Fenroh holstered his weapon and continued across the courtyard as though nothing had happened, the woman’s broken body lying on the uneven stones.
She continued to scream, all her limbs bent unnaturally. Blood gurgled in her throat. The guards did nothing, neither to help her nor to put her out of her misery. Sighing, Silas drew his own wand and flicked it at the doomed woman, who stilled at once under the fatal curse.
Fenroh looked back at him, head cocked sideways.
“I have a headache,” Silas claimed. “And she was loud.” But his casual words did not hide the disgust in his eyes.
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