Good Enough

By Michael McDonald

Countess Amy de Metter is in trouble. Brother Puck is in love. Imprisoned by her king, the Countess stands accused of a crime she will neither confess nor recant. The monk beseeches her to save herself with a confession, growing ever more desperate to save her from a grisly end, but the Countess remains steadfast, hoping that her death might be the spark that lights the fires of rebellion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael McDonald
• Release date: May 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476245218

Michael McDonald

Writer, reader, ranter; Michael J. McDonald likes an eclectic range of things, but not bananas. He started writing stories before he could write by hand, sticking printed words together to form the sentences in his first days of school, then bothering the teacher to print off more so he could complete his epic. Things have come full circle, as due to injury he finds himself again unable to write by hand, but thanks to the magic box on his desk his prose continues to flow. Unless somebody is wrong on a forum. Being a grumpy misanthropist with a cane leads to a particularly disillusioned undercurrent in his writing, but it's not all doom and gloom. Sometimes he lets most of the characters live. Though sometimes they'll wish they didn't. Michael has been published by Quantum Muse magazine, Wherever It Pleases e-zine, Books To Go Now and the University of Glasgow Student Association. He is currently working on a sequel to Underworld and a more adult novel that is a cheerful story of teen angst, rebellion and death.

Book preview

Good Enough

by

Michael J. McDonald

Smashwords Edition

* * * * *

Published by Michael J. McDonald at Smashwords

Cover Photograph by Rhiannon Elenya (Curufin @ stock.xchng)

Good Enough

Copyright 2012 by Michael J. McDonald

Chapter I: Confession

The tower was cold. How could it be anything else? It was made of stone bleached white as the skeletons that rattled in its closets, built with great bricks into a sheer, unfeeling countenance. The ice-slick face of the tower's walls remained featureless inside and out, a uniformity drowning the little glassless window looking out into the vacant greyness of squalling clouds.

Even the white-robed servants stirring the fire, faces hidden from her in their scarlet dashed hoods, could not warm her spirits. Not through their efforts, nor through their ill-concealed mourning. That just made it worse. To hear her girls sniff as they tended the fire, laid sparse food on a splintering tray or collected the pot; that chilled her blood as suddenly as placing her posterior on the porcelain.

It's cold, Amy sighed, rubbing her arms and clutching them to her chest.

It is February, Countess, replied the servant, not looking away from her determined fire-poking. But spring will come once more.

The Countess snorted. The servant stirring the embers shook a little, and immediately there was another cold blade searing the Countess from within. They were only trying their best to remain hopeful, and to encourage her, and she spat back at them with derision. It would do no one any good, but then again, neither would their indefatigable hope. Hope. As if the King would ever change his mind. As if he had one left to change.

I'm sorry, Amy breathed, resting her back into the slender couch. It was fine furniture, if rather impractical, and were it not for the narrow window and great bolt on the wrong side of the door, who would know this room was a cell rather than a lady's chamber? Well, the chains hanging from the wall may take some explaining. I just do not see myself stepping out into the garden again, enjoying the spring. Even if it comes and I am still here.

I am sure you will feel the grass under your feet again, Countess.

Amy smiled