I
am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the BETRAYER by Nicole Conway Blog Tour
hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the
giveaway!
About
The Book:
Author: Nicole Conway
Pub.
Date: February
23, 2020
Publisher: Broadfeather Books
Formats: Paperback,
eBook, Audiobook
Pages: 352
Find
it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, B&N, TBD, Bookshop.org
Read for FREE with
a Kindle Unlimited Membership!
The darkest secrets of Murdoc’s violent past may be their last hope.
As pressure mounts to find the Tibran witch, Devana, Thatcher and his companions struggle to regroup after discovering Phillip’s bitter betrayal. Forced into hiding while they await a new plan of attack from Prince Judan's network of spies, tensions rise and threaten to tear their company apart. Murdoc knows every second they linger risks another attack from the vicious Ulfrangar Assassins or Phillip, but Reigh is determined to stay and await new instructions.
With two of his closest friends now locked in a battle of wills, Thatcher is caught in the middle—until a surprise assault by the Ulfrangar drags him into the darkest depths of their brutal order. Faced with a life-and-death race against time, Murdoc is the only one who might be able to save him now. But for Murdoc, taking up an assassin’s blade again to fight the same order that trained him will also mean facing the worst demons of his past.
Can Murdoc finally rise above his bloody past and save his only friend? Or does
destiny have a new path in store for an assassin-turned-hero?
Title: HUNTER (The Dragonrider Heritage #1)
Author: Nicole Conway
Pub.
Date: November
24, 2020
Publisher: Broadfeather Books
Formats: Paperback,
eBook, Audiobook
Pages: 352
Find
it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, Audible, B&N, TBD,
Bookshop.org
Read for FREE with
a Kindle Unlimited Membership!
One boy must earn the trust of a blind dragon and hunt down an elusive sorceress before she can rekindle the war that nearly destroyed their world.
As the Kingdom of Maldobar emerges victorious from the brutal invasion of the Tibran Empire, much of the land is left in utter ruin. With his home destroyed and family gone, 16-year-old Thatcher Renley has no one left to turn to. And when he’s mistaken for a Tibran soldier and banished to a wartime prison camp, Thatcher knows his only hope for freedom lies in appealing to Queen Jenna directly.
But getting out of the prison camp might be the
least of his worries— especially after he stumbles across a feral dragon locked
in an iron cell.
As far as dragons go, Fornax is a lost cause. The battle that killed his rider also left him blind and too aggressive for any knight to control. But Thatcher can’t deny feeling drawn to the beast. Does he have what it takes to calm Fornax and join the proud ranks of Maldobar’s dragonriders? Only time will tell. And with a bloodthirsty Tibran witch threatening to rekindle the chaos of war, everyone’s time may be running out.
Excerpt
PART ONE
Murdoc
Chapter One
Thatcher
Renley was, by far, the biggest idiot I had ever met in my entire life—and
that’s saying something, because I’d also met Prince Reigh Farrow. He was in a
close second. But at least he had enough common sense to know that this
so-called hunt Queen Jenna and Jaevid Broadfeather had sent us on was
essentially a glorified suicide mission. We were charging straight into a fight
with a largely unknown Tibran witch, armed with only fragments of information
about her abilities and location. And if that weren’t enough, there were only
three competent fighters among our group—dragons included.
Granted, Reigh could manage decently against common
enemies. He’d apparently been trained in combat by the Gray Elves, and their
scouts had recently improved in their fighting ability. They must’ve stumbled
across someone with an actual brain who was now training their scouts and
warriors. Knowing that, Reigh had probably held his own fairly well in
Luntharda. But we were a long way from the wild jungle, and sooner or later,
that temper of his was going to cost him.
Phoebe was … well. Hmm. Perplexing, I guess. She
fluttered around with her mad storm of red curls flying, bubbling like an
excited child about the projects she was working on, and radiating a relentless
optimism that sort of made me sick to my stomach after a while. Not that she
annoyed me, really. It was just strange to be around someone that persistently
happy all the time. Happiness wasn’t something I’d had much experience with.
Which brings me back to the biggest moron of them all
who, unfortunately, was now both my primary concern and the bane of my
existence. Thatcher was astronomically stupid. Honestly, it was staggering he’d
survived as long as he had without someone following him around, smacking his
hand whenever he was about to try something dangerous. He’d volunteered for
this mission without having any combat training of any kind. He was a farrier’s
son, for crying out loud, and was essentially the human personification of a
dandelion puff. Short, scrawny, wide-eyed, and baby-faced—he didn’t have a
prayer of surviving this mess unless someone watched over him constantly.
How, by all the Gods and Fates, I had wound up
being that person was still beyond my understanding.
Ugh. Fine, fine. I’d done it by choice, I suppose. Sort
of, anyway. I mean, sure, I could have left him there in that alleyway in
Thornbend to die along with most of the other peasants and villagers. Maybe
that would’ve been kinder in the long run—especially if we were all soaring
toward a gruesome death right now. Still, in that moment, with all the world
swallowed up in flames and that pitiful kid on the ground at my feet, I’d
looked into his eyes as he spoke to me, offering me a different path I’d craved
for so long. And I’d realized … no one had ever talked to me that way before.
Like I was someone and not something. No one had ever treated me
that way. No one had ever looked at me and regarded me like … a person.
So, I’d made a rash and irrevocable decision. A mistake,
probably. But then again, I’d been swallowing back hopes of escaping that
life—the life of an Ulfrangar assassin—for as long as I could remember. That
night in Thornbend had been my first real opportunity. The only catch was, of
course, keeping the baby-faced kid who kept calling me “friend” alive, too.
Thatcher treated everyone that way, though. It’s like
there was no room in his mind for the possibility that a person really could be
evil. Shocking, considering the vacant way he stared at me sometimes—like you
could pass a twig through his ear and it would come out the other side and not
hit anything in between.
At first, I’d just assumed he was incredibly sheltered or
naïve. Maybe he was. But after our experience with Phoebe, finding out that she
had been a Tibran, I’d expected him to reject her entirely. Anyone else
probably would have. Whether out of shame or fear, she’d kept that information
from everyone.
But Thatcher had insisted on helping her. He’d forgiven
her without a second thought. He was stupid, yes. But he was also far kinder
than anyone could ever deserve.
Least of all me.
He still called me his friend like it was nothing. He
laughed and chatted with me as though he genuinely enjoyed my company and
wanted me around. He kept chasing after me whenever I tried to put some safe
distance between us. Didn’t he get it? Couldn’t he sense it at all? I was not
a good person. I never had been. I’d accepted a long time ago that no matter
where I went or what I did, the pack—the Ulfrangar—would always own me. They’d
carved their mark upon my soul from the very beginning and nothing could erase
it. Deep down, I would always be one of them.
Even now, sitting behind Reigh astride his lithe green
dragon, the weight of their presence crushed down over my body from every side.
They were everywhere and nowhere. They moved in shadow, lived in anonymity, and
thrived on the constant stream of the world’s darkest secrets. There was no
place I could hide, nowhere I could go that they wouldn’t be able to reach.
The more I thought about it, the harder it was to justify
why I’d let Jaevid set me free—even if I knew the answer already. Because of
Thatcher, the idiot. No one seemed to know what he’d done to provoke Devana and
her new monstrous minion, Phillip. Maybe nothing. And honestly, I didn’t care.
It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t put a hand on him if I had anything to say
about it. He’d called me a friend—someone who was like a brother to him—and
that was enough. It was more than anyone else had ever done for me my entire
life.
We cruised, riding the strong winds coming in from the
sea along the eastern coastline. The tower of Eastwatch faded behind us, and
far below, small villages and towns dotted the hills. Most were a safe distance
from the steep cliffs that dropped into the toiling dark ocean—places where
wild dragons liked to nest. But the farther we flew to the north, the more the
cliffs gave way to rocky beaches. Fishing towns were built right up against the
banks amidst the clusters of odd, hexagonal basalt columns and massive trunks
of washed-up driftwood from Luntharda’s giant trees.
Dayrise stood just a few miles inland, stretching all the
way to the sea where a large port was packed tight with big merchant ships. The
vessels cruised in from the open sea, white sails puffed and banners fluttering
high as flocks of seagulls chased them in. Most were probably owned by
merchants happy to be sailing their trade routes again now that the Tibran war
was over.
Not that I’d ever been to Dayrise myself, honestly. The
Ulfrangar network spanned far beyond Maldobar’s borders, but the territory I’d
been assigned to work was back down on the southern tip of the kingdom. I’d
never had any reason to journey this far north.
Too bad it didn’t make me feel the least bit more secure.
A glimmer caught my eye far in the distance off our right
side—the tell-tale flash of sunlight over glossy scales. A dragon. He was far
off, maybe three miles on our tail, and had been since we left Eastwatch. From
so far away, I couldn’t tell much else. Maybe it was just a security escort
from the dragonriders keeping an eye on us from afar. Maybe it was a curious
wild drake that’d caught wind of the dragoness in our group and was interested
in her. I didn’t know.
And when it came to being followed, I hated not
knowing.
The sight of those faraway scale flashes and the faint
shape of great dark wings flapping put a pang of dread like a cold iron spike
in my gut. I looked away and set my teeth against the rush of adrenaline that
made my skin tingle and my heart pound like mad. I’d have to mention it to the
others eventually. But not yet. I needed more information, first. To be sure
this wasn’t some arrangement Jaevid had put in place because, well, he now knew
what I was. He had every reason to be concerned and to want to keep a close eye
on things.
Or on me, rather.
Reigh started our descent as we neared the city’s outer
limits. I had no idea where we were supposed to go or who Jaevid Broadfeather
had waiting for us. Hopefully not another noble with an estate we might
accidentally burn down. Well, sort of accidentally, anyway. And technically we
hadn’t been the one doing the burning, but I digress. Whatever. Burned is
burned, I suppose.
Unlike Eastwatch, the city of Dayrise wasn’t one visited
by dragonriders on military orders on a regular basis. There was no towering
spire meant to house soldiers and mounts looming over the rooftops, and no high
city walls topped with battlements. Not that we got any strange looks as our
dragons circled outside the city’s outer limits. In fact, there were more than
a dozen sizable inns crowded around the main roads leading in and out of the
city’s tightly packed streets. Many of them were flanked by massive barns two
or three stories tall intended to house dragons.
Reigh chose one closer to the port on the western side of
the city and guided his green dragoness into a smooth landing. She cupped her
wings and stretched out her hind legs, landing on the grass as elegantly as a
swan on a pond.
Thatcher’s much larger orange drake landed next to us,
shaking his black-horned head and puffing unhappy snorts through his nose. The
dragon curled his long, striped tail around his legs and bristled, small ears
turned back as those milky green eyes darted around.
I frowned. Thatcher trusted that beast wholeheartedly.
But I’d seen it drag him across the horizon like caught prey once already.
Thatcher had been lucky to walk away from that ordeal—luckier than anyone else
seemed to want to acknowledge.
“Let’s get Vexi and Fornax settled here and find our
contact,” Reigh called back to me as he straightened in the saddle. He pulled
off his helmet, nearly slapping me in the face with the end of his long, sweaty
braid in the process.
“This is an old city,” I muttered as I studied the road
ahead that led into the narrow cobblestone streets. “Places like this tend to
be dangerous after dark, and there’s only a few hours of daylight left. We
should go quickly.”
He unbuckled and dismounted first, then stood sorting
through his saddlebags while I climbed down. “I agree. Which is why I’m leaving
you in charge of this.” Reigh took out a small drawstring purse, poured a few
gold coins into his palm then tied it shut again and tossed it in my direction.
“Our contact is supposed to meet us at the sign for the Crosswall Docks.
They’re probably already waiting on us. Think you can find it? Taverns with
dragon accommodations are harder to come by here, and we need to keep a low
profile—meaning, we stay away from the ones farther into the city. So, I’ll
settle up for the dragons here and meet you there.”
The purse jangled when I caught it, as though there were
still quite a few coins tucked away inside. “You expect that to take a while?
We need to stay together.” It wouldn’t take that long, of course. I knew that
as well as he did—meaning he had another motive for wanting a few minutes
alone.
“I’ve got some letters to send back to Luntharda.
Shouldn’t take me more than an hour,” he replied, bowing his head to hide his
face as he crammed the handful of coins into his pocket. Reigh’s emotions ran
so close to the surface, it was ridiculously easy to read him even with his
face angled away. Judging by the scarlet color his ears were turning, these
must have been personal letters. Letters to a girl, most likely. Love
letters. Ugh.
He would’ve made a terrible assassin.
“And who is it that I’m supposedly looking for at the
docks?” I pocketed the bag of coins and ran a hand through my hair, trying in
vain to get it out of my eyes. Months away from my former life had allowed it
to grow out longer than it’d ever been before. I’d have to fix that soon.
Reigh’s expression scrunched as though he were trying to
think—emphasis on trying. Complex thought didn’t seem to be one of his
stronger qualities. “He didn’t say specifically. Just that we’re looking for
another Broadfeather. His brother, probably. I can’t recall his first name, but
I met him briefly after the war ended.”
“If we go on ahead, how do you intend to find us later?”
I arched an eyebrow.
He shrugged. “Looking for someone named Broadfeather at
Crosswall Docks? That’s plenty to go on. I’m sure someone can point me in the
right direction.”
Fair point. A last name like that was one people
generally remembered, after all.
“Did you see all the ships?” a sing-song voice chimed
suddenly. Phoebe practically fluttered over to stand beside me, her red curls
bobbing around her and her big, blue eyes shimmering with excitement. “Aren’t
they beautiful? Can we go see them up close?”
Reigh’s entire demeanor soured as he stood straighter.
“Didn’t see enough of them while you were sailing around with the Tibrans,
conquering other kingdoms and slaughtering their people?” He growled every word
through his teeth as he leered down at her.
She shrank back some, almost like she might duck behind
me if he made a move toward her. “O-Oh, um, well, no. I mean, yes, I did have
to sail with them. But Lord Argonox didn’t allow me to leave my cell or go up
onto the deck during—” She stopped short and went quiet. Her brows drew
together as she flicked speedy, nervous glances around everyone. “I-I’m sorry,”
she stammered at last, as though she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Reigh didn’t respond. Instead, he glowered down at her
with his mouth mashed into a tight frown. His light amber eyes flashed with a
mixture of wrath and what I could only guess was withheld terror.
I’d seen that look before from my Ulfrangar handler
whenever I’d challenged or defied him, as though for the briefest instant he
wasn’t sure if he should hold his ground or flee. And while I could sympathize
to a degree—after all, Phoebe had apparently been the one in charge of all the
magical experimentation for the Tibran Empire—she was about as threatening as a
freshly-cut daisy on her own. She probably weighed seventy pounds to his one
hundred and fifty or so.
Awkward silence hung in the air until Thatcher drifted
over to join us, sporting his usual, blissfully vacant grin. “Are we staying
here for the night?” he asked cheerily. “I’ve never stayed at an inn before. I
thought Jaevid had arranged for us to stay with someone in the city?”
With a tight sigh, Reigh spun on a heel and gestured for
Thatcher to follow him. “He did, but we’ve got to get the dragons settled and
I’m betting yours will need extra assistance. So, come with me. Murdoc, you can
take her and find our host. We’ll catch up.”
Phoebe didn’t say a word for a long time as she followed
along close beside me. Lugging her bag of gear over my shoulder, I tried not to
look her way more than necessary. According to Thatcher, I gave the impression
that I was glaring whenever I stared at someone for too long. No need to make
it worse.
Besides, one glance was all it took. The distant
fogginess in her eyes as she stared down at the sidewalk put an uncomfortable
tightness in my chest. I should say something, right? That was the normal thing
to do. Wasn’t it? Gods and Fates, how was I supposed to know what normal was?
“You should stop apologizing,” I blurted before I could
change my mind. My tone came out much harsher than I intended, as usual. Curse
it all. I should have kept my mouth shut. Silence was always safer.
Phoebe tripped over an uneven stone. She staggered, and I
snapped my free hand out. I seized her arm to hold her steady.
She let out a scream. Not a surprised little yelp—a real,
primal, utterly terrified scream. Phoebe went completely stiff in my grasp,
blinking up at me with her entire body trembling.
What? Why would she look at me like that—like I was about
to do something terrible to her? I’d never raised a hand to her. Was it because
she knew I was an Ulfrangar now?
Before I could ask or even say a word, her entire
expression suddenly went blank again. Her body relaxed and she glanced around,
seeming confused for a moment. “O-Oh! Murdoc! I-I guess you startled me.” She
blinked up at me, face flushing almost as red as her hair. The forced, twitchy
smile on her lips looked almost painful. “I’m so sor—um, I mean, thank you.”
I slowly let her go. “I … I didn’t mean stop apologizing
in general. I meant stop apologizing to Reigh.”
Phoebe swallowed hard. Shifting her weight from one foot
to the other, she fidgeted with the embroidered hem of her long tunic as her
mouth scrunched up. “I, um, well, I mean he is right to hate me. I did—”
“I know what you did,” I interrupted as I began walking
again. “Most everyone does now, right? But Queen Jenna forgave you. The Court
of Crowns absolved you. You’ve apologized to everyone over and over, including
Reigh. You’ve made changes to your life to become something better now. No one
can ask any more of you than that.”
“But he still hates me, doesn’t he? He’d probably kill me
if you and Thatcher weren’t here.” She trotted to catch up and fall in step
next to me like before.
“There’s nothing you can do about that. You can’t change
your past or erase what you’ve done. And because of that, some people will
always hate you. Even if you do everything right from now on, it still won’t
matter to them. They will never be able to see you as anything more than what
you were,” I tried to explain without biting every bitter word through my
teeth. “But that doesn’t mean you should go on groveling for forgiveness.
You’ve done your part. Forgiving you is Reigh’s problem now. So let it go.”
She didn’t respond right away. For a few more blocks, she
followed along in total silence while we wound our way through the city’s
narrow streets toward the sea. Then I felt the pressure of her wide, blue-eyed
gaze on me again. It hit me like the glare of the sun, making my skin tingle.
“Aren’t you afraid that people won’t forgive you for being an Ulfrangar?”
I paused at a corner before a broad, open square. In the
center, a white stone fountain sprayed ribbons of water around the bust of a
man in battle armor. He stood tall and proud, his eyes seemingly focused right
on me, with a helmet under his arm while his other hand rested on the pommel of
the sword belted at his hip. A dragonrider, most likely. But not one I
recognized.
“That’s different. I don’t expect them to forgive me, so
it would be pointless to ask for it,” I confessed as I held the statue’s frozen
gaze. “The people who know what I’ve done could never truly forgive me. Like
King Jace. And the ones who don’t understand only offer their forgiveness
because they don’t know any better.” I flicked a look down at her. “Like
Thatcher.”
Her mouth scrunched into a dissatisfied little frown.
“What about Lord Jaevid, then? He knows, doesn’t he?”
I couldn’t keep the irony from my tone. “No. Not really.
He’s gotten a small taste of it, so now he’s suspicious. But he doesn’t
understand the extent of what I am.”
“Well, I forgive you, Murdoc,” Phoebe announced, a
rebellious crease in her brow. “So which am I, then? Someone who understands?
Or someone who doesn’t?”
I had to think about that.
The Tibran Empire had paid hefty sums to hire out
Ulfrangar assassins and spies throughout the war. Phoebe had probably seen
others like me before, if only in passing. She’d certainly seen all of the evil
and unbridled cruelty that could come from a man like Argonox. In fact, she had
probably witnessed and experienced more of it than even she could remember. But
did she really comprehend what I was? What I’d done to survive up to this
point?
“Could you forgive Argonox?” I countered. “Or any of the
soldiers who were in charge of keeping you obedient? What about the ones who
put those marks on your skin?”
Her face slowly drained of color. “B-But you didn’t do
tha—”
“I’m no different from them,” I cut her off quickly. “You
strip away the emblems and the banners, the flags and the creeds, and you’re
left with the same thing. At its roots, evil is evil, and it doesn’t matter
what you dress it up in. That’s why deep down, I’ll always be what the
Ulfrangar made me. I’ll carry their darkness in me until the day I die.”
“You really think that?” Her voice was hardly more than a
whisper. “You truly believe you’re evil like Lord Argonox was?”
I set my jaw and looked away. No matter how I turned the
words in my head, none of them sounded right. I couldn’t bring myself to
answer. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Clearly, she couldn’t understand. We were
nothing alike. Phoebe hadn’t chosen to become a Tibran. She hadn’t chosen to do
all of the things Argonox had forced her to do. But there had been moments in
my life, a few vile moments steeped in malice and blood, when I had. I could
have rebelled then. I could have let the Ulfrangar kill me for my defiance and
ended it there. But instead … I’d accepted that fate. Wanted it. Thrived on it.
Sometimes, I’d even enjoyed it.
That was the part of myself King Jace would never
trust—the part Reigh, Thatcher, Jaevid, and Phoebe should have been disgusted
by. But they didn’t know.
And I had no idea how to tell them.
About Nicole:
Nicole is an award-winning, #1 international
bestselling author from North Alabama. With a passion for relatable, authentic
characters and exciting, fast-paced plots, Nicole is best known for her series,
THE DRAGONRIDER CHRONICLES. Other published works include THE DRAGONRIDER
LEGACY SERIES, SPIRITS OF CHAOS SERIES, MAD MAGIC SAGA, and THE DRAGONRIDER
HERITAGE SERIES (Coming Winter 2020).
Subscribe to
Nicole’s Newsletter!
Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Tumblr | Pinterest | BookBub | Amazon | Goodreads
Giveaway Details:
1 lucky winner will win a signed finished copy of BETRAYER & swag, US Only.
a Rafflecopter giveawayTour
Schedule:
Week
One:
|
2/22/2021 |
Excerpt |
|
|
2/23/2021 |
Excerpt/Instagram Post |
|
|
2/24/2021 |
Excerpt/Instagram Post |
|
|
2/25/2021 |
Excerpt |
|
|
2/26/2021 |
Excerpt/Instagram Post |
Week Two:
|
3/1/2021 |
Excerpt |
|
|
3/2/2021 |
Excerpt/Instagram
Post |
|
|
3/3/2021 |
Excerpt |
|
|
3/4/2021 |
Excerpt/Instagram Post |
|
|
3/5/2021 |
Review |
|
|
3/5/2021 |
Excerpt/Instagram Post |
I enjoyed the excerpt.
ReplyDelete