“I’ll need at least twice that,” the Countess claimed.
“Fine,” Marc said. “I’ll give you a staff of twelve.”
Before that sickly smile, capable of curdling milk, could creep over her features, Marc lifted a finger to silence her. There would be conditions to his offer.
“For every hour you delay your departure, you’ll lose one staff member.”
“How dare—” the Countess yelled.
“I will not be swayed by your venom,” Marc said. “The sands of time are slipping through the hourglass…”
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
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