This time, I'm putting up a new snippet from chapter three of Sorrel in Silver, the third volume in Sorrel's saga. Sorrel has been in the pub too long...
Berindyl turned at my expiration of breath, and glowered at me. 'You have a better idea?'
I glared back at her. The cider was not helping my skill at diplomacy. All right, so most people will tell you – rightly – that I am about as diplomatic as the average toddler, but with the amount of alcohol I had consumed my skill in that direction was approximately non-existent. My fists were clenching - I was spoiling for a fight.
Wrack's hand rested heavily on my shoulder, pressing me down into the soft fabric of the chair. 'Enough stupidity' he growled. 'Need to think more clearly in the morning.'
He looked at me levelly, daring me to disagree with him.
Which was more than enough to make me do just that.
'Volg off, Wrack! If she wants a fight, she can have one!'
'Sorrel assumes that she can solve everything with violence' Berindyl said caustically.
I was on my feet, about to fling the remnants of my cider into her face, before I realised that doing so would prove her right.
As always, comments welcomed!