Michael Corvin Novels & Stories

His eyes lingered on my face for a while, then he nodded, extending his arm for me. I placed my hand in his as we walked towards the front door when a guard approached us and bowed to Clinton. Anger surged through me when I recognized the guy—Maddox, one of the guards who had hit me during the time I was locked in the dungeon. The urge to return all the pain he and his fellows gave me was too strong, but I managed to shove it down under the mask of indifference, keeping my expression neutral even as my fingers itched to strike back.

He had the look of a man too used to silence, one who found little rest even when the war had quieted. Across the room, Corvin Hale lounged on the window seat, a silver goblet in hand. His long, dark hair fell loose around his face, catching the firelight like strands of ink. He looked as if he’d stepped out of a portrait meant for royal halls rather than a battlefield. Too beautiful for armor and too sharp for court, Corvin moved with lazy grace, his posture a study in defiance. His mouth curved in that half-smile that could either charm or wound, depending on who he aimed it at. “You’ve been staring at those maps for hours,” Corvin drawled. “If the borders haven’t moved by now, I promise t

"I don't know, maybe ...prove he really needs a bodyguard?" "Killian? he doesn't need anyone?" "Oh, come on, there has to be...." The moment the words left Flynn's mouth, Michael looked up at the TV, placed just above the billiard's table and froze, his hand with his glass mid air. "Mike?" Flynn followed his eyes towards the screen. "Yeah, that's the new mayor. People kind of like him, he’s probably the only one who’s not corrupted yet, or... “ “This person right over there is the mayor?"

We stayed like that a long moment, his hand still warm against my jaw, the silence between us settling into something gentler than the fear that had carried me into it, and when he finally spoke again, his voice had shifted into something more deliberate, more practical, the tone of a man already working through what needed to happen next. "I know someone who might be able to help us understand what's happening faster than we can piece together on our own." He drew back slightly, though he kept my hand held loosely in his, some reluctance in the movement that told me the subject wasn't an easy one for him. "A man named Corvin. Old contact of mine, from before I ever took this territory. He s

"I hadn't expected that particular resolution tonight." "You don't say," Micah shouted from the doorway, disbelief and fury in his voice even as he continued fighting to hold the corridor. "Man's lying dead on the floor and that's all you've got?" Corvin didn't bother responding to him directly. His attention stayed fixed on Julian's still form, calculating, distant, the same way he looked at every file, every case, every decades-old tragedy he apparently orchestrated without once letting feeling touch any part of it.