The Donet Trilogy Book Tour & Giveaway

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The skiff shoved off, disappearing into the fog that had settled in wisps on the
dark waters of Granville Harbor. Zoé and her uncle began to walk down the wharf toward
the quay when a small boat carrying three men emerged out of the fog and pulled up
alongside them. She recognized the two men at the oars as crew from la Reine Noire.
Behind them in the stern knelt Freddie, beckoning to her.
“’Tis Freddie!” she said, her spirits lifting at the sight of her friend.
“Get in!” he implored.
“Be quick,” said her uncle, directing her to the wooden steps built into the side of
the wharf that ran down to the water.
She climbed down to the rowing boat and her uncle followed. He was nearly to
the end of the steps when shouts from the wharf drew their attention.
“Vous, là! Halt in the name of the Republic!” The musket-bearing soldier strode
toward them, his boots loud on the wooden planks. A short distance away, a half-dozen
soldiers hurried to join him.
Her uncle ascended the stairs, pulling a pistol from his coat, and fired. The soldier
stumbled and fell to the wharf.
Racing down the stairs, her uncle leapt into the boat. “Vite, away!”
The two crewmen pulled hard at the oars.
Freddie drew his pistol.
The cluster of republican soldiers knelt at the edge of the wharf, took aim and
commenced spewing shot toward their small boat. Zoé crouched low as the balls whizzed
over her head and the loud crack of pistols and musket fire exploded around her.
Freddie and her uncle returned fire.
The crew pressed into the oars and the boat slipped into the fog. Her uncle
subsided onto the bench in the bow, stuffing his pistols into his coat pockets.
Zoé cast a long look toward the lights on the receding quay. The sound of muskets
still firing echoed in the mist.
One of the soldiers shouted, “I told you he was the one! That was le porc who cut
Pierre.”
Her uncle shook his head. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”
Zoé turned her gaze away from the shore. Finally, the shots died, leaving only the
rhythmic sound of the oars pulling through the water. “Dieu merci, at least ’tis over.”
“Oui, for now,” said her uncle. “We have West to thank for our lives.”
One of the crew pulling at the oars glanced over his shoulder. “The Englishman
has been shot, I think.”
Zoé looked behind the seamen. In the darkness, it was difficult to see but she
could just make out Freddie’s form slumped in the stern. “Freddie!”
A FIERCE WIND, Copyright © 2018 Regan Walker

Author: Angie

I'm a wife and a a mom of 4: 3 boys and a girl. I also have 3 fur babies, cats named Soleil, Luna, and a Savannah cat name Malkia. I work part-time outside my home as a COTA/L at a local hospital. I cover Johnstown, Altoona, and Pittsburgh areas. I love to do reviews and host giveaways for my readers. Contact me: angwith4 at gmail dot com if you would like a review. View all posts by Angie