Jericho Rising Excerpt 2

Jericho Rising

The High Priestess lounged on a plush couch, alone in her suite. She trailed a hand down her black velvet evening gown, tied at the waist with a braided gold cord, and smiled, letting out a sigh. She picked up a plump strawberry from a silver tray that sat on a small table next to her couch and took a bite, chewing it as she stared off into her own little world. She seemed oblivious to the multiple battles that raged both inside and outside of her fortress.
I moved into the doorway with my weapon, my boot dagger—which, amazingly, hadn’t been confiscated—at the ready. “Hello, Mother,” I said.