Between two worlds Book 2

"You bloody fool!" Says lord Hawthorne incognito inside the same tavern as the previous night with the assassin who was injured by Adsila's arrow. "You were hired to kill my firstborn son, and you were disarmed by a halfbreed?!"

"She shot an arrow through my hand!" Said the assassin. Holding his bandaged hand up, "See if you can do any better, I'm not going to risk getting killed by her!" He walked away.

Lord Hawthorne stood frozen for a moment, his jaw tight, his hand still clenched around the edge of the table.
Around him, the tavern carried on-laughter, clinking glasses, low murmurs-but it all felt distant. Irrelevant.
A half-breed.
Disarmed a trained man.
His lip curled.
"Incompetent coward," he muttered under his breath.
But beneath the anger, something else stirred.
Not fear.
Not quite.
Something colder.
Calculation.