We’re getting closer.

For now, let’s check in with former Chosen One, fallen princess, and all-around grump Katrina Lamont as she has a tense encounter with the local authority….

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The private chamber of Major Sonya Brayker was akin to an office or study. Located on the Bear’s third floor, a large desk sat before the window overlooking Lake Just. Maps and scrolls lined the walls, along with a collection of swords and axes. Two pairs of braziers in the corners kept the room lit and warm. A backdoor led to a darkened chamber, likely the Major’s private quarters where she slept and washed.

Katrina was seated in front of the desk along with Dinah-Celeste. Snow tapped against the window, but there was nothing to see of the lake beyond except total darkness. Somewhere unseen, a clock ticked away. The Dinah seemed at ease, sitting with her hands folded on her lap like a school-girl awaiting her instructor. In Katrina’s experience, getting called to the teacher’s desk rarely meant good things.

After a brief wait, the Major finally appeared. She was a large and hard looking woman that appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties. Stillwell must have given her Anathema, because she had the black sabre in her hand when she entered. Her scarred face was stern as she studied the blade, and the cold look she gave Katrina revealed this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat.

“I recognize this metal,” she said. “It comes from the Dark Lands.”

The Dinah let out a low gasp.

“I’ve been told.”

“How did you get it?”

“I took it from the man I killed. His name escapes me.” She paused, hearing another gasp from the Dinah. “He was trying to kill me, for what it’s worth.”

Brayker tightened her lips, though Katrina couldn’t tell if it was due to her explanation or the sound of her harsh, scratchy voice. The Major put the sword back in its sheath and took the seat behind her desk, chewing on what appeared to be tobacco.

“I’m told you claim to be Katrina Lamont.”

“That’s my name.”

“And by that, you mean…?”

“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “The.”

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Time for another preview of The Gray Kings, the upcoming third volume in the Graylands saga.

Here, we catch up with “notorious outlaw” Krutch Leeroy as he finds himself in a tight spot….

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It occurred to Krutch that, in spite of his rotten reputation and worse luck, he’d only seen the inside of a proper dungeon once.

The room was bare, with no windows or furnishing of any kind save the lone table and seat. It wasn’t lit with a brazier or even candles, but with four glowing crystals posted at each corner that gave off a sterile, cold light. At a guess, he assumed this to be an interrogation room, and took comfort in seeing there were no torture devices. As it was, his only real discomfort were the metal cuffs binding his wrists together.

At least it’s warmer in here than outside, he thought as his captors entered.

The first was Jeremiah Escudo, a young man of Mezan descent by the look of his tanned face and dark hair. He wore basic leathers, looking like a ranger of some sort, but was distinguished by the green cloak worn over his coat. Though outwardly poised, his brown eyes were fierce and focused. In his hands, he carried Krutch’s pistol and the two bandolier belts where he kept the shells.

With him was Major Sonya Brayker—an impressive woman of muscle with short brown hair, dark eyes, and a thick scar down the right side of her face. Though without armor, she wore the recognizable red and blue colors of the Sentry Elite, and she strolled into the room with the swagger of someone in command. Under her arm was a thick folder of papers which she placed on the table without taking her eyes off their prisoner.

“Krutch Leeroy,” she said, chewing on something. “The Krutch Leeroy … right here in my base.”

“It would seem so.”

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