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LfBH – 10: Recruitment

Two minutes after midnight.  @_@  So close.  Also, if you’d like to catch up on the rest of LfBH, you can read parts 1 – 9.5 right here.

~  ~  ~  ~

Broken and filthy, Tully leaned heavily on the outer wall of the barracks. People milled about, walking in aimless circles, shells of the living, ghosts of who they might have been before Blackford Hill. For some, that was an improvement, of course; rapists, child molesters, the vicious and violent. Tully didn’t mourn those losses, but here it was sometimes hard to distinguish the innocent from the evil. Here, they were all savages on the edge of survival.

“No matter how long you stand there, you won’t get any further away.”

Tully snapped back to herself, the man now standing beside her was very suddenly a part of her reality. “Excuse me?”

“You stand here and watch them, hoping the longer you stare, the easier it will be to imagine yourself elsewhere. Maybe there’s some grass over there,” he gestured vaguely toward the mud pit. “Maybe a pub where the overseer’s office is.”

She stared at him, unblinking, the dark circles under her eyes giving her a pained, hollow look. “I’m Tully,” she spoke after several moments, her eyes returning to the wandering people.

“Felix.” He gave a weak snort of laughter, and adjusted his makeshift sling. “I’m a Count, you know. Could you believe that?”

“Not in here, you’re not,” she stated flatly, unfazed by the claim.

“No,” his eyes fell, and he nudged a pebble with his foot. “Not out there, either, I expect. Not anymore. What did you do to get in here?”

“Nothing. I shared an inn room with a woman.” She paused. “As it happens, I am in love with her, but at the time, we hadn’t done anything wrong.”

“She’s here too?”

“Yes, so if you’re thinking of doing anyth—.”

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. I’m here for the same reason.” Felix made a face, and glanced to Tully, swaying a bit on his feet. “If you don’t count the temple full of Satrean priests I burned alive, I suppose. They had it coming.”

Tully’s flat gaze turned to him, a mild question into his sanity behind her eyes. “You are quite the charmer, Count Felix.”

“I just… meant that I was in love with the wrong person. ‘Wrong’ according to them, anyway. The priests killed him. I punished them for murder and for Dacian’s memory. My father though he was being merciful, denying me a hanging and dumping me off here like one more dirty secret.”

“Are you a lonely man, Count?”

Felix’s gaze faltered a little, and he paused. “I suppose I am. Why?”

“I just can’t fathom why you’re telling me all of this.” Again, she turned to the muddy grounds of Blackford Hill, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, biting idly.

Heaving a sigh, the former Count nodded and gave his good arm a small shrug. “You looked as lonely as I am, standing over here. Where’s your lady friend?”

The silence that rested between them was heavy, but Tully fought not to sag beneath the weight of her uncertainty. “She was taken to the overseer house ago.” She drew a quaking breath. “I haven’t seen her since, though… others… say she was dragged out… alive and cursing.” Her eyes clamped shut, and her arms folded across her chest, hugging herself tightly. “No one has seen her since then.”

Felix let his eyes look over the beaten down blond beside him, and he shook his head. The guards here didn’t appear to be treating the women with any special gentleness. She was covered in scuffs and bruises, and he could have sworn there was a faint redness around her neck… like a fabric burn. It was a crime, the things they did to people.

“My friend is missing too. He has been since this morning.” Felix confided quietly, having tried so desperately to keep from facing that he cared for Silas. The other man had been taken for treatment, and hadn’t returned; that always meant he’d come back needing at least a day in bed before he could even move. The bruises, the lashings, the scrapes—it killed Felix to see him like that. Silas was a crass man, but he was also warm and caring…. it was a combination one didn’t see in the upper class.

Taking a deep breath, Tully steadied herself, and glanced to him. “I hope they return him soon, then,” she noted, trying to be cordial, though she wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind for pleasantries.

Once again in a deep, awkward silence, Felix fidgeted a little, and turned with a start as he came face to face with a guard. The man was huge, but… most of them were, and he took a few steps back. “Excuse me.” he said.

“What’s going on here?” asked the guard, big bushy brows furrowed, his eyes centered on Felix.

“Nothing. We were talking.” Tully stated, and looked to Felix, and back to the guard. “Your sort aren’t exactly quality conversation, if you don’t mind me saying.”

The bull of a man brought the back of his hand across Tully’s mouth, and her head jerked to the side. In seconds, blood welled in the split, and trickled down her chin. Felix’s eyes were wide, and took her by the shoulders, looking at the cut.

“What the hell did you do that for?” he snapped at the guard, spinning around to face him, seething. “You can’t make it in the world? Can’t read or write? Can’t follow simple commands? So what? Get a job slapping around girls half your size? It’s lumbering morons like you that belong in here, not us!” He shouted, but instead of striking… the guard only laughed.

That was unsettling.

Tully stood behind Felix, shaking a bit, not giving her ground.

“You wait, boy. Tomorrow’s your day.” The guard said, laughing as he turned and walked away.

Tully stared after him a moment before touching Felix’s arm. “What did he mean by that? What’s tomorrow?”

“Another scheduled treatment. I’m willing to bet he plans on paying me back for this then….” He drew a breath. “We’re not waiting that long. We’re leaving tonight, and you’re coming with us.”

“What?” Tully’s jaw dropped and she tugged on Felix’s un-wrapped arm. “You don’t even know me. Why would you—.”

“Shh! We’re all victims here. Do you want in or not?”

Pausing, she drew a breath and gave a stout nod. “I’m taking Phae with me.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to come without her.” Felix patted Tully’s hand, and smiled. “Good. I’ll come back here at dusk. Be ready.” And with that, he walked away, leaving Tully, wide-eyed, staring after him.

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LfBH 9.5 – Trials: Phaedra

Tully had told me to keep my head about me, but it was getting harder. Every time she came back inside, in pain, cold and naked—Every time I saw that look of terror on her face when they came in for her—Every time they came for her… I was just letting it happen. The treatments they gave me were different; I couldn’t even stand beside Tully, or with the other girls, young girls who didn’t do anything to deserve this madness.

“What to they do to you when they take you?” she asked one night, curled up in my bed with me. If we were being punished for being together, then we saw no reason to do something that determined we deserved it.

“The same things they do to you, I suppose.” I wondered if she felt me cringe at the question.

“They return you with similar injuries, but they never lead you toward the places they take us. It’s always the same routine… but they lead you toward the overseers office.” Those bright blue eyes turned up to me, and I tried to ignore the way they bore into me. Questioning. Insisting. “You’re lying, Phae. Why?”

I heaved a sigh, my body tight as I tried to keep the nonchalance as apparent as possible. “We’re in a detention camp, Tully…. What do you expect they’re doing to me?”

A pause, and finally she lowered her eyes. I relaxed as her head fell back on my chest. “It just seemed odd.”

I squeezed her gently—always gently—and twirled my fingers slowly through her hair. It was left at that, and I was grateful.

###

“Phaedra!” The bark startled me, and everyone else, from sleep, and I bolted upright in bed, eyes wide.

“It’s really too early for this,” I muttered, rubbing my bruised forehead as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Tully clutched desperately at my shirt, the fabric pulled taut as I tugged away. I heard the faintest, muffled sob, and I knew she was crying into the pillow. It had become routine at this point. No matter how many times I heard her cry, it never hurt any less to know I had to ignore it.

“Get moving,” the guard seethed, his words a growl, lips pulled back over his teeth.

“The overseer’s dogs truly are out in full force today,” I flashed him a smile, “Commendable.” The stars that flashed before my eyes were expected, the chain mail gloves he was wearing were not. I could hear Tully’s screams… somewhere muffled in the back of my head… My vision blurred and the stars cleared, and I realized I was on the floor. Forcing myself to my knees, I looked for her, searching in a disoriented sweep of the room. She was on the bed, Fiona and three other girls pinning her to the wall as she slumped against them, giving in to the restraint.

“She’ll be fine,” Fiona whispered, but Tully’s hysterical sobs didn’t cease.

Hauled to my feet by an iron grip, I felt the world spin beneath me as I fought to gain my footing. Not that I was offered much of a chance to do so before I was shoved forward by that same mitt-like hand. As soon as it released me, the floor slipped from under me, and I went to my hands and knees, hissing at the pain. My knees were already bruised, and now the heels of my hands would match them. Pushing myself up without any help, I staggered onward until my head cleared and I could walk without incident. It was a small victory.

Trudging across the boards that were laid over the muddy ground, I followed the trail to the overseer’s office, a gun muzzle pressed into my back. These games were getting old. These power struggles and taunting, the guns and knives, the screaming residents of Blackford Hill….

No. Not residents, victims.

There were those who deserved their place here, certainly. Rapists, child molesters, those sorts of people. A woman cheating on her abusive husband may have been a moral threat, but how could those who sympathized let her be imprisoned? Was she not entitled to happiness? And the men and women like Tully and me, what moral threat did we pose? We don’t breed like rabbits. There’s no “man of the house” to keep we “silly women” in line. No dutiful wife to cook and clean in a household with two men. The reasoning was asinine, and frogs would rain from the sky before I let them take Tully from me.

“Phaedra Trowden, bastard daughter of Lord Adrian Trowden of Kersa.” The overseer’s voice rippled through me, and I thought my skin might slough off. The chair turned, and a woman in her early fifties stared back at me. The day I’d met the Overseer, I was stunned that it was a woman who could commit such atrocities against good people—I had wanted a fight that day. But she didn’t say a word to me.

‘Take care of her,’ was all she said to my guards. The thought they’d break me. They thought it would be that easy. Since then, every beating and interrogation had been worse than the last. Even lying perfectly still hurt like hell at this point. Though I never let them get the better of me, and when I looked at the overseer, chin tilted up, she glared at me and stood.

“You don’t deny this?”

“Should I? Adrian Trowden has no part in my life. But I was his accident, yes. What are you getting at?” My eyes narrowed, and she met them with equal force, the hatred bubbling between our gazes had even the soldiers shifting uncomfortably.

The overseer stood stiffly and tugged the hem of her jacket to straighten the front. “Let’s not play childish games, Ms. Trowden. You and I both know that you have no claim to any titles, and yet you still carry your father’s surname. There are two reasons a bastard child retains the family name of the father: to be sacrificed as penance to the clergy, or to be sent into the guard. We both know you hardly fit the bill for a life of piety.”

My eyes rolled themselves in an involuntary criticism of her stupidity, and my hands found my hips. “You’re implying I’m an agent in the city guard? I spent a short time in the capital while I was helping my companion recover—“

“You mean your lover.”

“I mean my companion. She was ill. We live above a bakery in Shand, we work for the man who owns it. I’ve never been in the city guard.”

“The King’s guard?”

“No. Nor the local guard, the reserves, or the Holy Order.” My glare never faltered. I didn’t have to know this woman to hate everything about her. Even her eyes were hard. “Whatever reason my father had in giving me his name are unknown to me. I’ve never met the man, and I don’t particularly care to.”

The overseer drew a breath, hands tucking together at the small of her back. “Take her to her knees.”

I knew what was coming, but I didn’t fight it. The butts of two rifles struck each of the back of my knees, and I hit the floor, refusing to go to my hands. It took all of my strength to hold in the moans of pain that welled within me, but she didn’t deserve the satisfaction.

She saw that. And grinned. “You seem well trained to handle interrogation.”

“Am I? And here I thought I was acting out of spite,” I returned, my voice quaking just slightly.

“I want to know who you are, Ms. Trowden. This is your last opportunity to offer the information freely.” She began pacing slowly around me; I watched her feet taking slow methodical steps.

“Go to hell.” I closed my eyes when I spotted a soldier stalking toward me, rifle raised.

Not her head!” The blow didn’t fall. “I want her conscious for this, imbecile!”

I relaxed just slightly, and let my eyes flick open. The soldier had fallen back to his position.

“Apologies, Madam.”

A laugh burst from me, and I lifted a hand to cover my mouth. “Madam? Honestly?” She stared flatly at me, and I dropped my eyes to the floor as I snickered. “A ‘madam’ is the woman who runs a whore house, am I wrong? It does seem fitting, given the nature of this place. How many whores are here, exactly?”

My laughter was not going over well. The woman made one motion before clasping her hands behind her again. The same soldier came behind me and caught me across the back with… I glanced back, coughing, gasping, spittle coating my lower lip. The object was a short wooden club like night patrolmen carried. Outstanding. This was going to be a long session.

“You say you work in a bakery. What do you tell your employer when you have to take long absences?” She leaned close to my face, despite the fact I was still choking while my lungs tried to remember their purpose.

“For what?” I wheezed. The club hit me again, striking my side and I doubled over, clutching my ribs.

“You know.” She smiled. “You know good and well.”

“I work… in a bakery…”

“For an old man who doesn’t know which end is up most times, yes, Ms. Trowden, I know. I’ve done my research. I’ve been giving you the opportunity to be honest with me. And I also know the only reason you’re allowing these treatments—“

Beatings.”

“—is to avoid giving us motive to harm your—what did you call her? Companion?”

My stomach sank. It was only a matter of time before they would use Tully against me, I knew that. I was just hoping I could stall a little longer. They would hurt her. I knew they would. And not like they hurt me. Tully was disposable, but they had dug up enough dirt on me to make me interesting. If I was interesting to them, then I was worth torturing an innocent person over. Not that that was anything new.

“I’ll tell you everything.” My voice felt disconnected from my mouth. “But not yet. I want Tully’s injuries taken care of by a real doctor…. And I want three days to recover.”

An exasperated sigh sounded above me, but I knew she was contemplating it. “You’re in no position to be making demands, Ms. Trowden. Do you think this is a game?”

“Isn’t it? I’m not asking for much…. Full disclosure in exchange for three days and a doctor. You’re interested… because you know what I’m tied to…. you just need to hear me say it.” I shakily forced myself to stand, knees weak and wobbling, one arm protecting my ribs. When I was finally at her height again, I saw the amusement in her face, and the satisfaction that I was backed into a corner. “Kill anyone you want. I’m not saying a word without those three days and that doctor.”

She laughed. I wanted to vomit. “Fine. Take her back to her barracks and summon a doctor. Your friend will be tended. You have no right to the doctor’s services, so I hope you can recover enough in three days to speak. Once you’ve disclosed your little story… I reserve the right to beat that girl to a pulp if it doesn’t satisfy me. Understood.”

“Yes… Madam.” Still I afforded a grin…. and her smile disappeared as she gestured the soldiers to drag me out.

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LfBH 9.2 – Trials: Felix

I deserved it. Everything they did. I wanted it; the beatings, the water torture, the shackles…. It reminded me of Dacian. Every time they came to take me, I could hear Silas fighting, our bunk-mates struggling to keep him back. Each time was worse than the last, yet I remembered less and less. Silas nursed my wounds, though I could never fathom why. All my life, I lacked in true friends… it was ironic that I would find one here. He fought hard for me, and every time they came, I let them have me.

“Dacian is dead, Felix,” muttered Silas one evening as he set my broken forearm with a heart-stopping crack.

A howl burst from my throat, thunking my forehead against the table with a sob.

“G-Go to hell….”

“Not saying it won’t make it less true.” His words mirrored the ache in my arm, though he was oddly tender as he wrapped and splinted my swollen limb. “I understand that you loved him—”

Love him, Silas. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean my love died with him.”

“Fine. But it’s beside the fucking point.” His eyes burned, even as I worked not to look at him. I knew he was locked on me. “Dying here won’t bring him back.”

I knew that. But wasn’t it my greed for a formal marriage that got him killed? At least before I sought that formality we had each other.

“We deserved it.” I tried to clear the hoarseness from my throat, but the screaming had all but done it in. As it cracked around those words, I wondered if it really was hoarse, or if it was tears. My face had been beaten numb, so it really could have been either.

“Fuck off! You didn’t deserve any of this shit!” Silas snapped, snatching our tin rain-collecting cup and hurling it against the wall.

I cringed.

“I meant a wedding, jackass… We deserved a wedding,” I muttered after the shock of his outburst wore off. Rubbing my eyes with my good hand, I slumped back on the bed and cradled my arm.

“Oh.” Silas blinked owlishly at me, settling back on his crate. “Well. Right. Yes. You did deserve that. S’what I was telling you before. But really, though, Felix… Fight back a little.”

“No.”

“You fight when they come for me.

“You’re different.”

“Bullshit.” He plopped on the bed and laid beside me, both of us sideways, our legs hanging over the edge. “Your face is bleeding a little.”

“It always seems to be lately.” Glancing over, I watched him. Silas, an uncultured orphan from the streets of my father’s city. My only friend in the world now.

“They’ll be back tomorrow. Promise me you won’t just let them do whatever they want to you….”

I wanted to curse at him and go to sleep like I always did. Who was he to be making demands of me? It wasn’t that long ago that my fate had been the gallows, and I welcomed it. I could see no reason my life should be spared in favor of this hell.

“Believe it or not, you stupid bastard, people actually give a shit what happens to you.”

People? Or you?”

He rolled his eyes and rolled himself to his feet, crossing the room without a word. Effective means of dodging the question. Silas had as many bruises and bandages as I did, it was baffling how he could move so easily.

“Fine, you win. I’ll fight while they’re beating me next time. Because we all know how far protesting gets you.” I tossed a bread crust from the table at him, bouncing it off the top of his head.

Unfazed, he turned toward me, eyes dark and hollow, more somber than I’d ever seen him. “Just do me this and pretend, for once, that you want to be alive….”

My mouth dropped open, I could feel it as I stared dumbly at him. I could only nod. In the short few weeks I’d been here, Silas had tended my wounds, coaxed me to laugh, and stayed beside me in the dark. Selfish, spoiled man that I am, I felt all this time that he was doing it for me. In that moment, I felt stupid and cruel. I wasn’t the only one in the dark.

“I do want to live.” Using my good arm, I shoved myself up, every bruise and muscle screaming in agony. “I let the helplessness control me. I’m sorry.” I still don’t know if I actually was sorry. I just knew that Silas needed to hear it. Taking his hand, I gave it a weak squeeze.

“I don’t want to die here, Felix…” He let his head drop back against the window, rattling the pane.

“You won’t. We won’t. You’re as stubborn as a gods be damned goat, Silas. You’ll live through this whether you want to or not.” Nudging him with my elbow, I was pleased to earn a small smile.

“That so?” He lifted his head and gave a laugh, tears running down his cheeks.

“That is so. You need to be alive to help me crush my father and take his estate.” Those words left me and I hadn’t the faintest idea where they came from.

“What?” Silas stared, and I grinned at his surprise.

“You’ll help me, won’t you? We’ll split the profit.” The idea hadn’t even come to me until just then, after it left my lips. But it was brilliant.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” He glared, but only for a moment. My grin must have been infectious, because in seconds, I watched the same one grow on Silas’ face.

“Well?” I asked, squeezing his hand one more time.

Glancing down to our clasped hands, his eyes flickered once again to mine.

“I’m in.”

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LfBH: Detention

I know I’m super late, but here it is! <3  Part 6.   I apologize for the quality.

~+~+~+~


“What the hell do you mean?” snapped Felix, dark eyes narrowed at the guard who blocked the early-dawn light streaming through his doorway. Somehow, that made the light even more difficult to bear.

“Your father went to great lengths, Count Malrais. He aims to ensure your safety, and this was the best way he knew to–”

“To what?” Felix flew up from the pallet that served as his prison bed, and began dressing, unabashedly naked in front of the guard. “To spare himself the humiliation? Where does he plan to send me, exactly? We both know he won’t be accepting me back into the family household.”

The guard shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t have the details of your new location–”

The young count snorted in mock amusement, arms folding over his chest as he glared at the guard. “Get out. I’ll be out when I’ve eaten breakfast.”

“You’ll eat in the wagon,” stated the guard, his patience for Felix’s spoiled attitude wearing thin. “I’ll bind you if I have to, Count Malrais. You’re on our time, now.”

Felix shoved his feet into his boots, his face furiously red as he fought the urge to speak. This was growing tiresome. “I’d rather face the gallows.” He muttered, grunting in shock as he was seized by the back of his collar and yanked to his feet, all but flailing like a child against the sudden tug. Set down again, the guard shoved him, palm to his back, toward the door.

“Out.”

“Fine,” he snapped, and trudged in a miniature tantrum out the door. Sure enough, there was a wagon waiting, the back doors open only feet from the door. “There… there are bars on this wagon.”

“Yes.”

Felix’s stomach sank, and, hesitating, he hoisted himself into the back. A wagon with bars; his father sent a message that he was to be spared death, but in favor of what?

The gallows didn’t seem like such a terrible idea all of a sudden.

~+~+~+~

Three days in the back of that wagon, thrown scraps of whatever the guards were eating, Felix was beginning to wonder if his father’s compassion wasn’t actually a ploy to make an example of him. Maybe drag him out to the highway and have him strung up to be pecked at by the birds and boiled in the sun. Lying on that floor, unbound, but still a prisoner, the gallows were a welcoming thought, almost warming.

All at once, the wagon lurched to a stop and the double doors were thrown open, sunlight streaming in as Felix all but curled in on himself, shielding his eyes from the light.

“Out,” snapped the guard standing at the mouth of the wagon, tapping Felix’s cheek with the muzzle of his rifle to drive the point home.

Shoving himself to his feet, the Count groaned as every muscle in his body gave protest. As his eyes adjusted, they settled on the gun, and he heaved a sigh. Outstanding, he thought, stretching as he fought to gain feeling back in his legs.

“I’m not certain that’s necessary,” he muttered, eying the weapon irritably.

“We’re doing your father a favor, Count Malrais,” the guard all but barked. “If you get out of hand, it is within our power to gun you down.”

Felix stiffened, and his gaze faltered, dropping momentarily. “Of course it is….” He grimaced, and stepped out of the wagon, taken by the arms as he hopped to the ground. “Now, what is this ‘favor’ you’re doing my father? Sparing my life? Yes, that’s wonderful. Take me away from the gallows, throw me into a wagon, and dump me in a fenced off mud pit.” He motioned to the vast expanse of land before him as the gates, wound in knots of barbed wire, were pulled open to accept them inside.

“Welcome to Blackford Hill.” The guard lifted his gun, and struck Felix in the center of the back, giving his backside a kick at the same time. Gasping, Felix grunted and stumbled forward, heading through the gates, looking around as the panic rose inside him. That hollow, nervous feeling only grew as his steps became a trudge, the realization slowly welling in him.

“A detention camp…” he whispered, a cold pit forming in his stomach.

“Walk!” That gun struck him once again, and he toppled onto his hands and knees, mud splattering as he hit the ground.

This is my father’s idea of sparing me?” He snapped, pulling himself from the sludge and shaking his arms off. “Has he lost his mind?” He laughed in shock, hands lifting, pressing to his temples as he fought back the hysteria building in him.

The guard once again marched forward, lifting his gun. “I said–”

WALK! YES, I HEARD YOU!” Felix shouted at him, and the rifle caught him across the face. He didn’t recall falling, but as the explosion of stars behind his eyes cleared a moment later, he was staring up at the sky. Turning onto his side, he pushed himself into a sitting position, looking out over the rows of wooden huts, dozens of people, men and women, all peeking out at the ruckus. All dressed in rags. Filthy. Starving. Some bandaged or splinted. He tried to push himself to his feet, looking stunned.

“Now. Walk.” The guard muttered, a bit more calmly this time.
Felix did as he was told, his eye flowering into a bruise, blood leaking from the corner of his lips. Why hadn’t his father just let him be executed? Anything was better than a detention camp. Death was better than a detention camp. Turning around, Felix looked at the guard with the gun, and the other two that had been following along came around the sides of him.

“Why this place?” he asked, trying to look around while his head was still spinning.

“Strip.”

Felix grunted incredulously, and glared at the guard.

“Undress him,” snapped the guard and the other two closed in on the Count, even as he tried to back away. They seized his arms, and managed to strip him bare in seconds, discarding the rags they made of his clothing a moment later.

Shielding himself, Felix ducked his head as two boys approached with buckets of water, and before he could react, he gasped as the frigid water was splashed on him, washing the mud away. Thrown a threadbare towel, he cringed and dried himself, shaking violently as his body tried to adjust to the cold. Brought up onto a deck, he was given clothes, and forced to dress in the same drab rags everyone else seemed to be wearing. Humiliated and freezing, he turned to the guards, refusing to be beaten down… he lifted his chin.

“I’m writing a letter to my father. He can’t possibly have approved of this,” he snapped, but even the tone of his voice was a bit more subdued. The butt of that rifle hurt like hell.

“Your father demanded we bring you here!” The guard snapped, and gave him a shove. “Enough insolence. You belong to us now.”

Felix glared harder. “And if I refuse to take your asinine orders?”

He knew the answer to that. Sure enough, that rifle came down across his face, and as the stars exploded behind his eyes once again, Felix found himself wishing it had been a bullet.

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Bonus Pre-Featured Blog: Kissing in a Tree is Dangerous!

Here’s the thing.  Last week I destroyed my schedule, and failed G&L.  So, in light of the fact I failed to feature a blog last week, I’m posting a featured blog today and again tomorrow.  I was going to do it Wednesday and Thursday, but I’m making Thursday another fiction day.  Swamping myself a little.  =P

This first blog, while it has nothing to do with writing, speaks with passion and from the heart about gender issues and the LGBT community.  This girl is super fantastic, and her voice deserves to be heard in the blogosphere!  It’s a personal blog with passionate posts, and so I introduce you to:

Kissing in a Tree is Dangerous or the Lovely Lesbian

Check her out!  Believe me, she fits incredibly well with my spunky readers. =]

Featured blog for this week tomorrow, kids!  Don’t miss it!  (Here’s a hint: many of you know and love her already! *squee*)

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