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matt_doyle140 words on A Stain Upon His Hands, and 129 new words (and 572 more edited word) on Chapter Eight of The Hellion Prince. And what the Hell -- excerpts from today's progress!
A Stain Upon His Hands
“How the Hell many kids do you have, anyway?” She demanded of him, and he shrugged at her, still smiling.
Her hand shook in his. Was she nervous? Or excited? “As pleasant as can be expected,” she answered him after a moment's hesitation, distant and cool behind her veil, and stepped into the carriage. In a moment she was seated across from him, a little stiffly, and the door was closed, shutting out anyone not in on their secrets – but still he waited a moment in silence for the coachman to snap his whip and signal their departure.
A Stain Upon His Hands
“How the Hell many kids do you have, anyway?” She demanded of him, and he shrugged at her, still smiling.
“They don't call me Casimir the Seducer because I kissed a lot of girls,” he explained, and drew his rapier and sickle.
Her hand shook in his. Was she nervous? Or excited? “As pleasant as can be expected,” she answered him after a moment's hesitation, distant and cool behind her veil, and stepped into the carriage. In a moment she was seated across from him, a little stiffly, and the door was closed, shutting out anyone not in on their secrets – but still he waited a moment in silence for the coachman to snap his whip and signal their departure.
Then, before he could speak, one slender hand gripped his wrist, clutching hard enough to hurt, and yanked him from his seat, so he hung suspended in front of her, face to face, and saw the burning light in her eyes – hurt and humiliation and hot fury intermingled.
