I believe I owe you all an excerpt from my work-in-progress, Dagger of the Sun (or DotS as I affectionate like to call it).
Without further delay…here it is:
The night air was causing gooseflesh to spread over her arms and legs and the flimsy pale blue tunic wasn’t doing much to protect the rest of her either. Delphyne cursed whatever gods had brought the prince back from the barracks tonight of all nights. She judged the distance from her vantage point to the throne room’s entrance to be less than a minute, but the trick would be crossing the crowded floor without being stopped by someone interesting in hearing about a hunter’s tale.
Or I could jump from the balcony.
It honestly didn’t look that high. If she bent her knees on the landing, she would be fine. She leaned over the railing, letting her fingers encircle the cool stone.
“I would advise against it.”
Delphyne swivelled, heart nearly popping out of her chest. “Don’t scare me…I thought you were —”
Apollo raised an eyebrow.
“Nevermind,” Delphyne amended. “Where have you been?”
She had lost track of Apollo seconds after the feast had started. Apollo had noticed a poet friend of his in the crowd and wandered off. After that, it had been difficult to catch sight of him for more than a minute as he flitted around the room like a butterfly.
“Making the rounds,” Apollo said. “But I’m more interested in knowing why you’re standing here peeping at the statues?”
In the moonlight, the statues in the garden behind her looked even more lewd. Not to mention the occasional moans that drifted up from the shadowed maze.
“I was…” She paused. How could she phrase her words so that she didn’t sound like either a coward or a pervert? “I was getting some fresh air.” She finished rather lamely.
“It has gotten rather stuffy.” A pause. “More so now that the prince has arrived.”
“Asclepius told me.” Apollo looked at her, a small smile forming on his lips. “Did the prince really ask you to marry him…by telling you that you’d be a good breeder?”
Delphyne gave him a look that implied she would not be discussing this at length.
“And did you really punch him in response?”
Clearly, her look got lost in translation. “I didn’t have my sword with me, so punching him was my only recourse.”
Since this is a work in progress, I am very open to criticism and feedback…any thing that will help me improve. So please, please, leave a comment or suggestion below.
Now it’s back to the writing board!
–Rika Ashton (aka Book Hermit)