USA

On 31 October I dubbed November the “Month of Daughter of Blood“ — inspired by the fact that it’s currently a Kindle Monthly Deal in the USA/Canada. (Apparently there are nine pages thereof so eager seekers may have to scroll a bit!)

Every Thursday I’m doing an “ask me anything about Daughter” Q&A, with two posted so far:

Q&A #1

Q&A #2

So if you have questions on this absorbing topic, just drop me a line via my webmail:

contact[at]helenlowe[dot]info

(I’ve loved all the questions so far, so dinna be shy. 🙂 )

And I’ve also managed a WALL#4 update and a quick canvass as to “Why Celebrate Daughter of Blood?” Why, indeed? To find out the answers (or some potential one at any rate), click on the link. 😉 (It’s embedded in the post title.)

Since this post marks the half-way point for November, I thought it might be fun to look at what happens in the halfway point in Daughter. The US edition, which is the one on Kindle Monthly Deal, is 714 pages long, which makes page 357 the midpoint. Here’s a sample of what’s happening on that page:

UK/AU/NZ

Excerpt — Page 357 (The Midpoint)

…Asantir rose and answered Khar’s salute, placing the tips of her fingers above her heart and inclining her head in formal recognition. A chair scraped as Kharalthor stood, too, echoing Asantir’s tribute. Of course, Myr thought. Khar’s just made the victor’s salute to the ruling kin, and Kharalthor’s the Battlemaster so he has to acknowledge it—which also means acknowledging Khar. It was all spectacle: the whole contest, including the duel, was as much about pageant as the practical exercise of choosing an Honor Guard. Clearly, Khar understood that. He had fought a combat to the death and won, but now he was dueling again. No matter the weight of power arrayed in the gallery above him, he hadn’t given up—which made Myr want to cry now, rather than faint. Instead she looked past the Storm Spear to Taly.

She’ll know what’s at stake, too, Myr thought. Oh, Taly… But Khar was turning toward the Sea contingent as Kharalthor and Asantir sat down again, sheathing his sword before raising his hand to acknowledge Faro. The boy flushed, his hand half rising before he snatched it back, frowning and looking away in a gesture that said he was not so easily appeased. Myr would have smiled, if not for her makeup mask—and because her father was speaking.

“You have fought well, Storm Spear, both today and during the early part of the Honor Contest.” The surrounding galleries, rustled, the weathervane of the House veering before its Earl’s praise. “Still, the terms of the duel were clear, the combat was to the death.”

Khar’s manner was courteous. “I was not consulted over the terms of the duel, although arguably, as the challenged party, I should have been. But as the victor, it is my right to choose whether I deal death or grant life. And I have chosen mercy, Earl of Blood.”

Mercy—mercy—mercy. The word rippled around the galleries, the initial murmur building like the onset of a storm, until the Earl held up his hand and the sound died away.