ALH Anna Lee Huber

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WIP Wednesday - MORTAL ARTS Excerpt
April 10, 2013

Another new feature I'm introducing this week is WIP (Work-In-Progress) Wednesday. Every Wednesday I'll share details about one of my upcoming releases.  It may be a writing excerpt, facts about my research, information about my writing process, or even exclusive background information on the characters.  So stop by every Wednesday to find out what I'll be revealing.  And if you've got any questions you'd like answered or topics you would like me to discuss, be sure to send me an email.

And now, without further ado, an exclusive excerpt from MORTAL ARTS, Lady Darby Book 2, which releases September 3rd.


Chapter 1

It was the groan of death.

Or so one would think. But after five interminable days of listening to my sister moan and carry on as we trundled across Scotland toward Edinburgh, her grumbles and whimpers had lost their ability to alarm me. I had seen death, even if I hadn’t exactly heard its guttural conclusion, and despite the dark circles around Alana’s eyes and her wan complexion, I could tell my sister was far from its door.

Although, with each excruciating hour I was trapped inside the carriage with her the closer she became.

Alana was merely expecting, and the child inside her had decided to protest this journey persistently and forcibly. I had already decided that this troublesome niece or nephew would be my favorite. A child who could so unsettle my sister while still confined to the womb certainly merited my affection.

“Kiera,” my sister whined, rolling her head to the side so that she could see me, “do you have any more of that bread?”

My lips tightened. “Yes.”

Her hand lifted from her stomach and reached toward me. “Give me some.”

“Why? You’ll only vomit again and delay our arrival by another hour.”

A frown pleated Alana’s brow. “Why are you being so cruel?”

“I’m not. I’m simply stating facts. And hoping to salvage my last traveling dress,” I couldn’t help adding.

“You know I didn’t do it on purpose . . .”

“Twice.” I leaned forward to point out. “You got sick on me twice.”

“But that was yesterday . . .”

“And you splattered my boots just this morning.”

Alana pouted and turned to stare up at the ceiling of the carriage. “Well, if you had held the slop bucket for me, I wouldn’t have dropped it.”

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