Shattered (Chronicles of White World Book 3): A Dystopian Science-Fiction Thriller by M. Terry Green

Author:M. Terry Green [Green, M. Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Middleworld Productions
Published: 2015-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

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“A convoy,” Céfiro said. “Fascinating.” The little girl managed to babble without saying a damn thing. “Back to the Ghost. How did you find her?”

“I don’t know.” She looked up and down the hallway. “Are we back to where we started?”

He smirked a little. They were. “So the Ghost found you?”

He had heard, of course, of the botched trade proffered by Boraza. But the Ghost had not walked into the middle of the laager and grabbed Cordell’s daughter. How had he let his daughter be taken captive in the first place? How had he captured the Ghost, let alone survived her, when the rest of the fleet couldn’t?

“Miyu,” said a familiar voice from behind them.

She came to a stiff stop, leaning forward so as not to cross an unseen line.

Céfiro stilled as well. Though it had been years, the resonance of Cordell’s voice hadn’t changed.

As Céfiro turned, his hand drifted to the blade at his waist. Though Cordell held his hand out to the little girl, his eyes met Céfiro’s.

Eight years had changed his older brother, but not for the better. Céfiro noted the beginning of lines at the corner of his eyes. He’d let his hair grow out in commoner style. Though he appeared fit, he’d likely not seen a dueling ring in some time. But as he took his daughter’s hand, Cordell stared unblinkingly at him. He hadn’t lost that much. The eyes were always the first tell.

Nor did it appear there would be some false reunion. Cordell said nothing. It suited Céfiro. Unless Cordell wanted to abdicate, there was nothing to say.

Céfiro’s fingertips grazed the jeweled sheath at his waist. He could take Cordell. Eight years ago that hadn’t been true. His pulse quickened at the thought. He could do it right now in front of the whelp. He glanced at her, just as Cordell tugged her away.

Céfiro blinked at his brother’s retreating back. He stalked off without a word, scooping up the little girl and swinging her to his hip. His long strides carried them around the curve of the hall and out of sight. It wasn’t until they were gone that Céfiro realized what he’d done: he’d broken the stare first.

Lips pressed into a hard line, he gripped the dagger handle. Never mind. It wouldn’t come down to stares. It’d come down to blades.

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