A Quick Excerpt

Arrenia stepped into the palace, a wave of bliss bathing her being, the radiance of her soul resounding through her twinkling eyes. She shed her cloak into the hands of the doormen, elegantly striding forward, face uplifted, arms outstretched. Twirling about, she laughed, watching the bright hues of gold, purple, and scarlet blend together in a brilliant banner of color. Her feet strode gracefully over the marble floor, as if to the measured beat of some inaudible melody. She spun about, her skirt spinning round her legs until she stopped, her cheeks flushed crimson.

“Oh, how wonderful it is to be home!” she said.

The guard tried not to let his troubled emotions bleed onto his face. “Yes, quite…Now come, the queen waits upon her throne.”

They made their way down the hall, Arrenia drinking the familiar sights of her lofty abode. Tapestries dangled from the ceiling, their interwoven threads chronicling important events in the lives of the de la Cornias. From carved out alcoves, candles projected their light into the room. Large paintings spanned the wall, depicting the deceased members of the family with artful clarity.

And it was before one of these that Arrenia stopped….

Squinting in the dim light, she barely dared to breathe. No! It couldn’t be! Was it?
“M…m…my father.” The word issued from her lips, barely heeded. A knot tightened in her stomach. Before the guard could even answer, she knew what the truth must be.

“Dead, my Lady. He has been at peace since the day you vanished.”

Arrenia pressed her fingers into a fist, crushing them with the strength of her grief. Her heart bled the tears she had not the strength to cry. Head drooping between her shoulders, she kept her back towards the guard, allowing a veil of hair to drape over her face. Lids clenched a taut seal across her vision, attempting to shun from her sight the painful depiction of grief masquerading beneath the pretty hues of paint. Pleasant memories flowed across her mind, deepening the wound wrought by wrongdoing. She knew well the slaying hands of Sleyvink had slaughtered her father, obliterating for eternity his smiling face and laughing eyes. The tear in her soul widened, threatening to rip apart.
Why, Ino? Why?!

No answer.

The guard behind her fidgeted nervously. “Perhaps I had best go tell her Highness that your ladyship is awaiting her summons?”

Not even glancing in his direction, Arrenia said, “Of course.”

Haste shuffled him out of the room. With a sigh of sadness, Arrenia de la Cornia sank to her knees. She was alone. Truly alone.



Castor pulled the strings, narrowing the neck of the sack until the ends met. All around him, the busy bustle of people resonated through the camp. Laughter and joy crackled through the air…they were going home.

The boy supposed he should have been excited. Sleyvink, his beautiful home! The streets with vendors calling out their wares, coins flying from one set of hands to another. The incessant voice of the caller standing proudly at his podium, proclaiming the latest news. The grassy plains, dull yet vibrant with untold mysteries and secrets. And the castle looming over them all, tall and foreboding, like a restless centurion standing his post.

He sighed. Where was the magical feeling that used to tug at his insides? Many a time before, he had embraced with great joy the land of his birth- why now did it seem so inferior, so loathsome to return?

“How goes your packing?” a voice behind him said.

“Well enough, Mother,” he said, shrugging the thought from his mind.

Long strides carrying her across the grass, she stood beside him, watching his hands stumble over each other. Arched shoulders slumped limply, his fingers scurrying to and fro, tripping over the items set before him. His gaze remained fixed upon his work, refusing to meet her probing hazel eyes.

“Why so dejected, my son?”

Gulping, he said, “Nothing.”

“Think you can fool me, do you?”

No answer. A small glisten glossed his eyes. Tongue roving over his lips, he stared at the cloth wall flapping in the wind momentarily.

“It’s the girl, is it not?”

Terror’s sharp claws dug into his face, scarring him with their impression. Chill spread from his soul, tingling his nerves and freezing him in his place. The dagger he held dropped to the table below.

The woman gave out a short laugh, slipping her arm gently about him. “I am a mother, dear. Do not think I did not notice how you would light up whenever she walked in the room!”

A fleeting smile crossed the boy’s lips, the warmth of his mother’s jovial manner thawing the cold that held him prisoner. It was not long, however, before the expression vanished, replaced by the redundant countenance of sadness.

“And it is now for her you grieve, is it not?

Nodding, he sniffed. Stuffing the dagger into a bag, he tried to concentrate on his work. He clenched his teeth together, trying to squash her memory between them.

“Please, dearie, not so sad, if it please you. There are plenty of other women in the world.”

Castor sighed. “But I can only give my heart to one.”

The woman stopped, taken aback by his words. Pity stirred her soul as she studied her son, the fruit of her womb. For a moment, she saw his little infant face, hallooed in his swaddling blanket. Sleepy eyes shut tight- the faint sound of a violin, from somewhere in her memory, lilting out a lullaby. Her finger embraced by his little fist…how could this young man before her be the same boy she had cradled in her arms? He had grown so fast- did she even know him?

“Well, the jousting tournament’s in a mere fortnight. I hear it will be Sleyvink’s finest,” she said.

“But I’m not even sure I want to return!”

Her mouth curved knowingly. “Oh, you will be glad enough once you have arrived. And the contest ought to take the girl from your mind.” She took his hand and kissed it. “I’m proud of you, Castor. More proud than you could ever know. Now, if you’ll beg my indulgence, I must return to the King and help him with his packing. I will see you tonight at dinner.”

He paused as she turned away from him. The words she uttered left him neither warm nor cold, but only desolate and empty. Yet sincerity sung through her words. She understood, and in that he could take comfort.

“Very well, Mother.”

Another Excerpt, Part 2

Note- This excerpt comes directly after the last one posted, and thus is a follow up scene.

A wild cry pierced the air, stabbing into the silence that ensued. Arrenia stood motionless, lids clamped over her eyes, unwilling to witness what she was certain must come. A thousand emotions flooded through her, seeping into the corners of her mind, crowding out her thoughts. The black vacuum of fear swirled before her, swallowing her whole, enveloping her senses. Every muscle tensed and ready, she waited on….

A soft clatter broke through her deafened senses. She opened her eyes. A sword lay on the ground, its keen shine dulled by the lack of light.

Castor grasped the throat of her dress and shook her violently. “I should have you killed for this, Arrenia de la Cornia!”

Tears rippled down his cheeks, blunting the trembling edge in his words. She studied him, attempting to read between the face lined in angered grief.

As the moments sprawled on, a slow smile twitched her mouth into a teasing smirk. Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his hair, raking it back away from his face. “Yet you find yourself unable to accomplish the task, is that it, my dear warrior?”
Whiteness blanched his features for one split second. Then, slipping into a more relaxed state, he laughed softly- a quiet, wonderful laugh that rang throughout the forest, resonating off the trees and stilling the souls of all who heard it.

He tapped her nose gently. “Well said, little one!”

She slid her hand into his, enjoying in the utmost the feeling of his fingers wrapping about hers. For a moment they just stood there, her hand in his.

Castor’s face fell, his grip loosening.

“What? What is it?” she asked.

“The palace…you live in the palace?”

“Yes… What’s wrong?”

“We cannot go there! It is guarded night and day- I’ll be seen!”

Arrenia’s mouth closed, sealing behind her lips a speechless tongue. She drew her fingers taut around his in a voiceless entreaty. She knew what he said to be true. Day and night, the palace was kept under lock and key, a great untouchable fortress to all but those who lived there.

But still, in his care she found shelter from the encroaching corners of the black night, a refuge in which to hide from her troubles and find sanctuary in his presence. Her parched tongue roved over dry lips.

“Please, Castor, don’t leave me. Not now.”

“Is there any other way?”

She paused, cocking her head to one side. Then, after a long moment, she shook it. “No, I know of nowhere else I can go…..But wait- yes! You could just escort me to the gate.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You are sure? I mean, you will be safe from there?”

Her arms extended, she shrugged, a grin pulling on the corners of her mouth. “I should imagine so. I mean, has not my family most probably been searching for me? I believe they shall delight in my return and all but confine me to my room to ensure I do not go traipsing off with the likes of you again! Unless….” The smile vanished from her face.

“Unless?”

Inhaling deeply, she said, “That girl in the ball, you remember her, do you not?”

“Yes.”

“Well she is my stepsister, the daughter of my deceased father’s second wife, whom he married after the death of my mother. I have always feared Isabel for a reason I did not know, but now I think I am beginning to understand….”

Her words faded into the night, and she stood silent for a moment, then shrugged again. “But as I said, my brother will most likely put me under the utmost guard as an attempt to maintain my security, so I do not see any reason to worry.”

Castor took her chin in his hand and tipped it up until her eyes stared into his. He felt her jawline tighten beneath his fingers as she tried to look away, but he held her firmly in place. “Listen to me, Arrenia. Think about what you’re doing. You’re walking into the arms of your arch-enemy, in a place you cannot protect yourself even if a thousand men surrounded you. No matter if there’s one guard protecting you or three thousand, you will still be under the same roof as your stepsister, and no one will ever think of protecting you from her.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile as she laid her hand over his. “Castor, trust me, I’ll be fine.”

He shook her gently, his fingers digging into her shoulders. “Are you sure?”

The breeze rustled through her hair, thrusting it into the air then playfully catching it again. Floating just above her shoulders, it swirled gently around her, concealing her emotions as it crossed her face. Her gaze stared unwaveringly into his, gentle and lovely, yet determined and defiant. She nodded. “Absolutely.”

The blood drained from Castor’s face as his heart plummeted from his chest, leaving him ashen and looking dreadfully terrified. His mind roamed through its recesses, raking through his head for some excuse, some reason to make her abstain from this self-inflicted path. But, as he truly looked at her, noting her rigid, beautiful stoic state, he knew that she had made up her mind, and nothing he said would change her mind. He pressed his lips into a thin white line. “Very well. Have your way, you little warrioress. Just make sure you know how to fight this battle!”

She smiled once again- a big, flawless smile, her eyes suddenly alight, fanning the fire already raging within him. The heat licked at his heart, slowly but surely melting him from the inside out. A grin sprawled over his face, gradually giving way to a gentle laugh. He brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear, leaning over to whisper in it. “Lead the way, little one!”

Nudging her hand into his, she took off at a fearless frolic, skipping over twigs and with a step of gaiety avoiding nearly everything that would make a noise. He tried to keep up with her, his ears magnifying every resounding snap and chaotic crackle as the earth yielded itself to the harsh beating of his feet. He winced, mental reprimands raging through his brain.

She seemed to dance before him, waltzing with the gentle sway of the wind. Her toes skimmed the ground, the moonlight braided into her hair. His heart pounded out the beat to her every sweet step. Perfectly synchronized, her steps and his heart- so intertwined that one could not be distinguished from the other.

A loud laugh parted the silence. Teasingly tugging at the arm now dangling at his side, she pulled him forward. “So smitten, are you? For a minute you looked as if you wished to drink me in and swallow me whole!”

A slight shade of scarlet colored his cheeks. “Did I?”

Delivering a delicate blow to the arm now hooked in hers, she shook her head in delighted disapproval. “You know the answer to that very well, don’t you?”

A smirk twitched the corner of his lip as he glanced at her. “Perhaps.”

For a long moment, he waited for her to laugh, for that silvery sound to linger upon the breeze. But instead she stopped, her hand tightening about his arm.

“Oh!” she declared, horror plucking the word from her mouth. “Oh!”

She wrenched away from him, dashing from the concealing cover of the forest and into the clearing beyond.

“Arrenia!” he called. But it was too late.

She knelt in the middle of ashen ruins, sobbing bitterly, the charred remains sifting through her fingers. A tear fell from her cheek, striking the ground with a mighty blow, churning the dirt below into mud. Scooping up handfuls of soil, she clasped them to her chest, crying over them as a mother weeps for her children.

Through her blurred vision, she saw a wall, stone-faced and stoic, protecting the once-exposed side of a palace. A wall she had never before seen- and one she was fairly convinced was never there.

“My home,” she whimpered. “My home.”

Still hidden behind the safety of the brambles, Castor hesitated. His heart pounded with every passing second as his mind weighed the odds of being caught should he venture outside of the wood. His mind bade him over and over to not to expose his presence- rather, to run. He had, after all, done what he said he would, hadn’t he?

But, with his own waking eyes he saw her hurt; her wounds lay open for all to see. His heart throbbed as he stood torn, not daring to venture forth yet shamed by his lack of courage in the light of her suffering. Whether it was this insecure abasement or the mind trained in practicality that kept him cowering behind the bushes, he could not tell.

She looked up at him, her hands extended outward as she screamed her bewilderment at him. “Why did this happen? Why?!”

Castor gulped. With every nerve within him, he felt the sharp slice of her words. Tension rolled his fingers into a tight ball, only to let them fall to his sides again. Perspiration burst onto his palms, a heartache hanging deep in his chest.

Him. She was accusing him for the destruction wrought by his people! Didn’t she know he meant her no harm? Couldn’t she see deepness of his affection towards her?

Without knowing what he was doing, he stepped out into the clearing, allowing the light of the moon to wash over him with its silvery glow. Her gaze unwavering, she looked steadily on, her little features pinched in sorrow. He spread his arms wide, hoping she would run into them and embrace the secure refuge he held out to her like a raft in the middle of hardship’s tumultuous sea.

But her face remained a flat and expressionless, a blank slate of emotions besides the stream of tears quietly flooding her cheeks. And beautiful…oh, so beautiful…was she as she stood there, devouring his soul with the flames of her frigid manner and melting him down until he knelt in a crumpled, heart-broken heap at her feet. He grabbed the hem of her dress as he cried out.

“Please, Lady! My people razed your home to the ground- it was not the work of my hands alone!”

Arrenia yanked away from him. “The work one pair of hands or the work of many- it makes no difference now, does it?”

He grasped her shoulder and turned her about. “Arrenia, please, I beg you! Do not think poorly of me. None of this is my fault!”

She glared into his eyes, smoldering him under the heat of her fury. “Your fault or not, this was my home.”

Sighing, he tightened his grip upon her shoulders. Gulping back his sobs, he struggled to find the right words. Her unaverted gaze still stared boldly into his own. And oh, how it frightened him! He tried to recall the number of foes he had defeated, but what had ever sapped his strength more than this girl, who razed his defenses with one look? When it came to battling with the body and defending his life, he had been well trained- but of what art was this battle of the heart, which even now throbbed from fresh wounds?

know?! Do you not see?!”

Arrenia stopped, her curled fists loosening at her sides. Tight muscles released their strain, allowing her taut composure to relax. Through the blinding blur of her tears, she a boy, doubled over in grief and pain- and suddenly her own vanquished into nothing.

She dropped to her knees beside him, the muck and mire of the muddied ground staining the elegant patterns in her dress. Brushing the hair aside from his face, she ran her fingers slowly down his neck until her hand rested on his shoulder. The heaves of his soft sobs ravaged through him, breaking him down and revealing his true heart- and the wounds inflicted by her words.

She looked away, unwilling to see the crafting created by her careless tongue. How could she be so calloused?

“Castor, I’m sorry.”

Like the sound of sweet music, her sorrowful speech lilted into the air- the resounding song of an angel resonating in the night sky. He lifted his head and stared into her eyes- those deep, watery wells swimming in sadness, drowning him in their beauty and caressing him in their care.

And moreover, she was crying. Not for her home, he realized, but for him.

“Please, don’t be angry with me. I spoke out of turn.” She folded her fidgeting hands in her lap and bit her lip.

Drawing his finger across her jawline, he prodded her gaze upward. “Never with you, little maiden… But we mustn’t remain another minute.”

She climbed to her feet, following his suit. “Why? Why not just stay here?”

He gave her a doubtful look as she caught his other hand.

“Think about it, Castor. We could meet here every night just to talk. It would be our secret. No one else would have to know.”

The seconds drawled out into minutes, punctuated by the steady beat of their hearts. Castor clenched her sleeves. Crickets sang their sweet serenade, begging him to agree, wanting him to accept. Stars winked down from their lofty heights, twinkling their mysterious joy. In the distance, a wise old owl hooted his warning.

He shook his head. “No, Arrenia. It’s too dangerous.”
Her expression fell, and she let go of him. A veil dropped between them- two lonely lovers separated by the silence, their disjoined hands hanging limply by their sides. Arrenia curled hers into a fist, bracing herself for the moment she now knew must come.

Castor opened his mouth, only to seal it shut when the words failed to come. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, to hold her to him for eternity. He wanted to feel her head upon his shoulder, to run is fingers through her hair one last time. But now all seemed so cold, blocked as they were by fate’s blow.

Suddenly, his ears caught a steady stomp.

“Guards!” he whispered sharply. “I’m sorry, Arrenia. I must be off!”

She jerked her head up in time to see him dash towards the forest. The urge of finality coursed through her veins, scalding her with the strength of its singing heat. She stepped forward. “Wait!”

He turned about.

“When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know, Arrenia…I don’t know….Now run, maiden! Get to your home before we are caught!”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I love you, Castor.”

“Now! Go!”

Gulping down her grief, she nodded. Turning towards the palace, she tried to speed away. But just then, the guard rounded the corner.

With a loud shout that reverberated off the trees and crackled through the forest, he stampeded after her. Within seconds, he had seized hold of her arms and was calling excitedly in ancient to Lydacian to his fellow guards. They swarmed around her, congratulating their friend asking her questions. She answered not a one. Rather, she glanced nervously back at Castor, arousing the attention of the guards.

Castor saw the finger pointed at him and heard babble rabble through the air. Arrenia flashed a warning with her face, and off he took. The men seized the hunt, crashing through the brush in pursuit of their game.

Arrenia stared longingly at the empty scene before her, ears wishing they could blot out the excited exclamations fading on the wind. Her finder held her tightly by the arm. He tugged on her sleeve.

“Lady Arrenia,” he said bowing. “We thank the gods for your safe return. And now, must take you to see her majesty, for the sight of you will set her worried mind at rest.”

Still staring into the distance, the girl replied. “Thank you. I should like to see my stepmother very much.”