At long last… I get to share the cover of “Protecting the Poor” with you!
Ready???
*insert huge, excited grin*
Ah yes… we get to have my favorite color on the cover: green! Plus, it’s not Robin Hood without green (albeit, they’re “Lincoln Green” not quite this shade).
About the Book
Sheriff Feroci is now lord over the province, and Abtshire has become a pit of injustice. Being forced into the lord’s service does not give Dumphey as many opportunities to help the poor as he desires. When attempts on his life drive him into the forest, this freedom opens a world of possibilities for helping others. But how can he do so when he is running for his life? And does God want him to do more than simply feed the poor?
Noel has always hidden behind the shadow of his older brother, Dumphey. When life forces him to stand on his own, will he still follow God in the corrupt world in which he lives? Would God really call him to do something that is beyond his power to do?
As Lord Feroci’s sinister plot comes to light, each lad has a choice to make. A choice that could cost them their lives.
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*Happy sigh*
I really do like seeing them all together. It’s really amazing to think that when I first thought up the idea three years ago, “Befriending the Beast” was just going to be a short story stand-alone. 😉 I’m very glad Lia and Dumphey got to join Belle in the series and absolutely cannot wait to share his story with you!!!
And, in a way, I get to start that now!!
Okay, well, maybe not that easily. You see… I want to share a portion of chapter one with you, but you absolutely must and have to read the prologue first!
So visit one of these lovely bloggers to read the prologue (don’t worry, they’ll all have it, so take your pick) THEN come back here and scroll down to read a continuance with chapter one.
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Okay, now have you read the prologue?
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You sure??
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Okay, okay… I’ll stop teasing you. 😉
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CHAPTER ONE PREVIEW
One week later…
Dumphey removed the last of the rye bread from his pouch. He had but a few minutes before they would begin searching for him at the barracks. He knocked on the door of Widow Anith. As soon as he heard footsteps approaching, he laid the bread in a cloth at the doorstep and hurried away. He watched from the shadows as the door opened and a young lass bent down to examine the bread. ’Twas the same lass who always came to the door, no more than four years of age. And, as always, the lass took the bread then looked around—as if making sure a soldier wouldn’t steal it from her—before rushing back inside and shutting the door.
Another lass would not go hungry tonight. Warmth spread through Dumphey as he set off toward the barracks. Eight paces away, he stopped. Unease prickled the back of his neck. ’Twasn’t the first time he felt like he was being followed within this week. He spun around and a sword swiped toward him. He leapt backward. Pain sliced through his arm. He fell to the ground and clutched his left arm. Sticky blood pulsed under his grip.
They were supposed to train with wooden weapons. Not swords and armor. And definitely not fully-armored soldier against unarmed page. Unless…
The knight lunged for him. Dumphey rolled, thwarting the attack.
This wasn’t training.
He scrambled to his feet before the knight advanced again. He glanced around for something—anything—to use as a defense. Nothing. He stepped back. He was swifter on his feet than the knight encumbered with armor. But only if he could take his flight when the knight wasn’t expecting it. Curse those wretched helmets with visors. He couldn’t read the knight’s intentions with metal shielding his eyes. He didn’t even know who he was up against. Or why.
Surely the soldiers hadn’t been spying on his actions around Abtshire and reported them to the lord. He had been cautious—hadn’t he? Mayhap not cautious enough. Dumphey sent up a silent prayer that God would protect the families he regularly visited.
They continued in a stalemate, circling each other without making a thrust. Dumphey kept his eye on the maille-covered arm that held the sword. The muscles tightened. He ducked and the blade sliced over his head. Before the knight could make his next move, Dumphey turned and ran. His back was exposed, making him vulnerable, but run or stay, he faced death. He darted between cottages, slipping on trash that littered his way.
The nigh-completed walls of the barracks loomed before him. Just beyond it stood the stables. Dumphey risked a glance behind him. He had lost the knight, at least for the moment. He wove through another cluster of cottages until he reached the side of the stables away from the barracks. He surged through the stables’ open doors and slipped into the shadows before Philaon or Noel noticed him. Sweat soaked his tunic. Invisible spiders crawled up his legs after his sudden race. He closed his eyes and focused on silencing his gasping breaths as he pressed his hand to his wounded arm.
Here, with the comforting sounds of horses and the sweet smell of hay, was a safe haven. A place in which he had yearned to dwell this past year. With everything in him, he was grateful that Noel was still here instead of at the barracks. He had spent every day praying that Lord Feroci wouldn’t force his younger brother into training. ’Twas bad enough, him being coerced to train and fight, when all he yearned for was peace in the land. But he wasn’t given a choice. None of the lads were. They must fight for the lord or face the gallows. None of them could afford to pay Lord Feroci’s conscription fee.
“Ah, there you are, my good lad.” Barat’s tone belied his congenial words.
Dumphey jerked up, fist forming. The lord’s magnate. He held almost as much power as Feroci himself. How did he know to look here?
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Amanda Tero Books 