I’ve been going back and forth about whether to share an excerpt from my WIP, Blood Road. As I explained on Twitter, I’m so excited to be able to share it, but nervous about doing so too soon. Reading through the manuscript again this morning I realize there’s a lot of work that needs to be done—a lot of darlings to be killed, sadly—but I really do feel there’s a lot of solid material, too, a lot I’ll be able to work with when it comes time for the second draft. The following scene is one that, at this point, I’m fairly confident will make the cut, at least in basic form.

Let me know what you think! I’d welcome any comments and lavish praise constructive criticism.

The best-laid plans

The Guardsman kept his eyes on Torien’s face, but Torien could see his thoughts were elsewhere—could see him putting things together in his head and then breaking them down again and carefully reshaping them. At length he said, “You openly disavow loyalty to the Emperor. You admit your willingness to kill a man according to your own sense of justice, regardless of his guilt before an Imperial court. I could be forgiven for dealing with you as a radical, Risto.”

“I expect an Imperial court would say so.”

“Listen to me. You can kill Espere or leave him go free; it doesn’t make a difference. Espere is nothing. Unless you find a way to eliminate Pavo you’re still hanging on a gibbet in Choiro when this is done.”

“Would it matter to you?”

“Your hanging on a gibbet? Not particularly. But I recognize you may be useful—necessary, even, if Pavo’s to be brought down. You’ve already proven yourself a threat. It would be easy enough to hang this round your neck should you fail.”

Torien studied him, sharply. “Is this still hypothetical? Humoring me for the sake of argument?”

“Commander Briule wouldn’t have betrayed his men. Willingly or otherwise. This has always been beyond dispute in my mind, if indefensible rhetorically.” The Guardsman’s face was impassive, but there was a steel edge to his voice now. “I care to see Pavo brought down, Risto. If you can’t believe it’s because I care for justice—perhaps you’ll believe it’s because I cared for Nicho.”

“Did you?”

The Guardsman smiled again. It was a strained, sad smile. His face seemed suddenly older, harder, the gray more pronounced. “He was my son,” he said.

A sudden sickness mounted in Torien’s throat. He closed his eyes, briefly. He hadn’t once thought of Briule beyond the context of Espere, of Tasso—hadn’t thought of him as anything more than his rank and his name. He hadn’t wondered who might be left to mourn him.

He said, “I’m sorry.”

“He knew the risks.” The elder Briule’s voice was steady, carefully so. “Objectively, at least. I do not think he imagined they were anything more than risks. He was—a talented officer, and rightfully confident in his abilities. It wouldn’t have made a difference to him, of course—to know. He’d have been willing even so. I knew that of him. I knew his devotion to his work. Which is why I—couldn’t bring myself to believe he was the traitor, couldn’t bring myself to believe that even under coercion—”

He faltered. He fell into silence, bowing his head over the desk-top as though a sudden weight were pressing on the back of his neck. He lifted his hands, spread his fingers over his face. Then he pressed them together before his lips and looked up at Torien over his fingertips. He smiled the earlier cutting smile, though his eyes were hollow.

“We were speaking of your usefulness,” he said.

“You want me to kill Pavo.”

“You? You wouldn’t get close enough to him to shout so he’d hear you.”

“Then what do you need from me?”

“I need you to tell what you’ve told me to the one person in Choiro who can kill Pavo.”

“The Emperor?”

“I’ll correct myself. There are two in Choiro who can do this thing. I want you to go to the one who will. The Emperor would never. Maris Pavo has been his favorite since they were boys. More than once he’s turned a blind eye to Pavo’s indiscretions. Informed of this he’ll slap Pavo on the wrist and tell him to be less sloppy next time and he’ll let you or Espere hang for it—probably Espere, because the Emperor knows your father to matter. No, you take this to the one who knows the precariousness of his position—the one who knows there’s only so long the Senate will put up with the Emperor’s incompetence, who feels threatened accordingly.”

“Threatened enough to kill his father’s favorite?”

“The alternative may well be losing the throne. And the Prince knows how to turn his father’s wrath.”

Torien drew a hand across his face. An ache had started behind his eyes; there were too many thoughts pressing on them, too many possibilities spinning on and on. “I asked for a posting away from Choiro for a reason,” he said.

Briule said, “If you wanted to stay out of Choiro you should have kept your head down and your mouth shut.”