Work-In-Progress Wednesdays #29

This week, I’ve got an excerpt from Unseen, a short story I’m working on for the short story collection I’m hoping to release in 2021. Yes, I know that’s a long way off. But I want a headstart on things because I have so much on my plate. Anyway, Unseen connects most obviously to Revelar’s Queen, though it also connects to In Darkness Lost in a roundabout way and to Leap of Faith, which will be in the anthology Glimpses of Time and Magic, an anthology myself and author Joanna White are compiling with a group of other authors.

~~~

Saeread blinked. Her ears popped, and voices pressed in on every side. But the only one she really heard was the smooth baritone of the young man with the glowing amber eyes. Those molten pools pierced into her and held her in place while his silken voice lured her like a moth to a flame. She jolted into a ramrod straight position on her throne and stared at him. In the back of her mind, something nagged at her about this man, this ambassador from Ireland. But she brushed it away the next instant and smiled warmly before allowing herself to sink back against the cushioned seat. “It is wonderful to have you here, Ambassador. I trust you found the young woman I sent to your master’s court pleasant?”

He grinned. “Very affable, mi’lady.”

She nodded. “And your accommodations here?”

“More than generous, truth be told. I have been received far more warmly than I had anticipated.”

She laughed. “What did you expect, sir?”

“Certainly not a woman of such ravishing beauty and wit. And certainly not the warmth with which I have been greeted.” He bowed with a smile. “After all, you didn’t have to stoop as low as to notice an unworthy descendant of the Unseelie. In the fae world, we are the least of the least, after all.”

She grimaced. “Sarcasm doesn’t befit you, I think, Ambassador.”

He lifted his head. “Then if I may be so bold, mi’lady, it’s Ansiel, not Ambassador.”

She rolled the sounds around in her head. Ahnshiel. It was a nice name. But she shouldn’t encourage such a public display of forwardness. “An ambassador is what you are, and so you shall be respected as such when in formal settings.”

A gleam entered his bright gaze. “And might there be an occasion for an informal setting?”

She crossed her arms with a smirk. “Around here, Ambassador, we have more than our share of informal settings. I am certain you will run across more than a few if you remain this charming.”

He ducked his head. “I have offended already. Forgive me, mi’lady. On occasion, I forget myself and am, as a result, too blunt.”

“Honesty isn’t a bad thing.”

“Only when it is presented to those it could most benefit. For I fear, they are the least happy to hear it.”

“Perhaps.” She cocked her head to the side. “You’re a strange one, Ambassador Ansiel.”

He smiled at her, and it held a subtle, feral note to it. How odd he was! But, he was King Feread’s chosen liaison, and she couldn’t turn him away, so she ignored the strangeness of his behaviors and the smile he now bestowed upon her. His grin widened when he saw she wouldn’t remark on it. “If I may, mi’lady, I wish to retire to my chambers. I find myself more worn than I anticipated.”

She stifled a laugh at how formal he made everything sound and gave him a brief nod. “Do as you like. A servant will fetch you later. I wish to dine with you and speak with you of the state of matters for King Feread’s court. It has been some time since he and I last spoke.”

There was that curious glint again. It was almost as if he was mocking her, but she didn’t know what the misstep was. More than likely, she was being to sensitive. She brushed it off and watched him go with a soft sigh. There would be time enough to figure him out later. For now, there wasn’t a point to giving herself a headache in trying.

~~~

That’s if for me this week, everyone! What are you guys up to? Anything interesting? Feel free to share about your projects in the comments below!

Work-In-Progress Wednesdays #25

This week, I have an excerpt from a new short story I’m working on for a collection of stories I’m hoping to release in early 2021. The story, Revelar’s Queen, is about a fae serving girl and the Unseelie King. In this story, the Unseelie King is just the name that Earthlings gave to a being from another world, the ones–since one king didn’t survive from the earliest Earth tales of the Seelie and Unseelie up to modern times–who gave rise to the legends of the Unseelie in the first place.

~~~

AISLING wandered the barren halls in a stupor. How had the glorious, awe-inspiring halls of Queen Sairead’s court become like this? Paint-chipped walls and stained carpets, threadbare shades and broken windows. The chandeliers hung dun in their places, and the candelabras had fallen from the walls. In places, the stone even showed through the ruined drywall that had been put up back when it first became an accepted way to build walls. 

She didn’t know this place. Up above, a rafter creaked. She darted forward, narrowly avoiding a beam that had broken loose, bringing an entire section of the roof and the plastering down behind her. She choked on the dust and spun to look at the way back. Blocked. She didn’t even know for certain where she was anymore. This part of the mansion was from the adjoining castle, and it was much, much older. Still, it hadn’t looked like this, and she bit her lip. Should she really continue onward in light of the roof’s clear instability?

Her shoulders slumped. What choice was there? She couldn’t move the rubble now blocking the way out, and she knew no one was in this wing. She wasn’t supposed to be in this wing either, really. But she’d come in here for a place away from the bustle and chaos that was Midsummer’s Festival preparations. A broom closet would’ve been the safer option, evidently.

A set of doors loomed up ahead, the gold gilding on them lackluster and the paint peeling. How long had it been since anyone was in here? No one who was allowed her had talked of this place as an abandoned wreck. They all said it was a quiet, peaceful place meant only for the Queen and her closest advisers.

She approached the doors with careful steps and tried not to make noise as she cracked the doors open. A tiny squeak emitted from the hinges, and she cringed. Stupid. Of course it would creak! Things this old and in such a state of disrepair would make noise when opened. She stiffened and listened for a long moment, but no one moved to accost her or shouted in alarm.

The tension in her shoulders eased, and she released a low, slow sigh. She ran her fingers over the flaking gold and touched the ruined paint. Did she even want to know what was behind them? Did it matter? The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and her entire body tingled. Whatever was behind this door, it would change her life forever. She was certain of that. That thought alone sent a tremor through her. She could still turn around.

But where would she go? The way out was blocked, and no one knew she was here. Better to keep looking for another exit. She pressed her palm to the door and cracked it open just a bit more before peeking inside.

There was a man crouched in the center of the room. She stiffened, her whole body trembling. Why hadn’t he said anything when she first opened the doors? He had to know she was here. And who was he? One of the Queen’s councilors? Another intruder? The last didn’t seem likely. Who would wish to intrude here where there was nothing worth stealing and the roof could cave in at a moment’s notice?

He had his gaze fixed on her and the door, and his uncanny citrine eyes stayed on her even as she backed away from the door. She pressed a hand to her breast, wishing it could still her racing heart. Should she run? Or would it be best to simply admit that she’d been breaking the rules and misbehaving? Maybe if she owned up to it, her punishment would be lighter. After all, if she told him the truth, that she wandered in here just for a moment of peace and quiet, he might be more understanding.

But understanding was the last thing in those eyes, which were still trained on the door and seemed to pierce through to her soul. She swallowed hard and turned to go.

“Going so soon?”

She turned, both startled and enamored by the velvet-and-silk voice that filled the room and spilled out to the hall where she stood. Still, she wasn’t going to walk in there. She took another good look at the man and the room where he was now standing instead of crouching.

He watched her stare from beneath dark lashes, which made his citrine irises more startling still. His clothing was immaculate, unlike the rest of the room, which seemed to be some sort of ballroom. He wore a tailored suit and nicely polished boots. A little behind the times with the boots and the suit’s cut, but then, members of the Queen’s court often dressed as if they were in the nineteenth century. Unlike the other members of the court, though, he possessed a feral look. His hair was unkempt, and his smile was razor sharp. She shivered and looked away from him to the rest of the room. Why did he both terrify and excite her?

The floor around him was dusty, and the light coming through the dingy window just behind him cast the edge of some kind of platform into sharp relief against the floor. Yet, somehow, he didn’t cast a shadow. In that room of decay and despair, he fit in but also stood apart. His wild hair indicated a carelessness that the room’s occupants reflected in letting the curtains be eaten by moths and time unheeded, but his clothes were immaculate. An enigma in every way, even if he did appear to be somewhat at home in the otherwise empty room.

She cracked the door a little more and peered past him at the strange crack in the wall that was emitting an unearthly glow. What could it be? Some sort of portal, maybe? It didn’t look safe, whatever it was. She couldn’t see past the light no matter how hard she strained, but she caught some chords of an ethereal, haunted melody drifting through the room to where she was standing.

“Will you hide there all day, daughter of shadows?”

She bit her lip, ignored the strange rush of warmth his sultry voice sent through her and shook her head. Something about this was wrong. She backed away from the door again, determined to run this time. He never gave her the chance. The second she turned her back, hard fingers dug into her waist, pulled her back and held her still. How dare he do this? She squirmed and kicked at his shins, but it didn’t achieve anything. It only made him laugh, a rich sound that sent a shiver down her spine.

Aesling frowned and struggled more, but he only pinned her to the wall and gripped her chin in his firm, hard fingers. “You want out of here, yes?”

She nodded, relaxed and hoped he’d loosen his grip. He didn’t. But he also didn’t tighten it to the point that it inflicted pain. 

“What if I’m the only way out?”

As if she’d believe that. She eyed his belt, looking for any weapon she could use. Only one presented itself, and she knew with one glance that it wasn’t an option. The single blade, unsheathed and tucked through a belt loop, could be a way to free herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch it. It whispered to her of arcane things and darkness, of the Seelie and the Unseelie, and worst of all, of war and disaster. She let out a muted cry and wrenched her gaze away, only to meet the stranger’s yellow gaze again.

He gave her another of his feral grins and leans in closer. “I asked a question, and I expect an answer, please. What if I’m the only way out of here?”

“How can that be possible?”

“Look around you, little one. Do you see a luxurious castle with multiple entrances and exits for the servants like yourself?”

She glared at him. “I fail to see how that’s important. Just what are you driving at?”

He laughed. “That if you want to escape this cursed mansion where everything is dying along with your Queen’s power, you’ll come with me.” He leaned closer and ran his mouth along the curve of her ear. “It’s a simple choice. Starve to death here or take a single sip from my cup.”

~~~

That’s it for this week’s Work-In-Progress Wednesday, everyone! I hope you all enjoyed it. Have something you’re working on? Nanowrimo is under way for the month of November now, and this is part of the project I’m hoping to complete for it. Do any of you have a project for this year? If so, feel free to share about it in the comments!

Flash Fiction Fridays – Unseelie

This one is a bit of a one off from a world-building exercise I did. I’ll probably be writing a post about the method I used in a Thursday Technicalities, but that might be a bit in coming. I’m undecided on whether or not I’ll make a short story or novel out of this flash fiction, but we’ll see. Here you are!

~~~

I touch the flaking paint and peeling gold gilding of the doors, almost afraid of what might be behind them. But I also know it could be the only way out of here. I can’t go back down the dimly lit corridor I followed here, after all. So, I swallow the fear and press the door open just a crack, just enough to peek through.

The first thing I see is the man at the center of the room. The room itself is in shambles and looks to be empty aside from him. No noise is made, and I am certain I gave no indication of my presence. The door hinges didn’t make any noise earlier. But he knows I am here. He watches me from beneath long lashes, his irises a startling citrine. His clothing is immaculate, unlike the rest of the ballroom. A tailored suit and waistcoat with nice shoes. But his hair is unruly, giving him a wild look. And then he smiles at me, and I shiver. Out of fear or anticipation, I can’t say. Something about him both terrifies and warms me. 

The floor around him is dusty, and the light coming through the dingy window just behind him casts the edge of some kind of platform into sharp relief against the floor. Yet, somehow, he doesn’t cast a shadow. In that room of decay and despair, he fits in but also stands apart. His wild hair indicates a carelessness that the room’s occupants reflected in letting the curtains be eaten by moths and time unheeded, but his clothes are immaculate. An enigma in every way, even if he did appear to be somewhat at home in the otherwise empty room.

I crack the door a little more and peer past him at the strange crack in the wall that’s emitting an unearthly glow. What could it be? Some sort of portal, maybe? It doesn’t look safe, whatever it is. I can’t see past the light no matter how hard I strain, but I catch some chords of an ethereal, haunted melody drifting through the room to where I’m standing.

“Will you hide there all day, daughter of the shadows?” His voice is silky and sultry, meant entirely to charm.

I shiver and shake my head, backing away from the door. Something about this feels wrong. I never get the chance to run. He has me in his grasp the second I turn away from the doors, determined to find another way. His musk and pine scent envelops me, both soothing and frightening at the same time. How is that even possible?

I struggle against his grip, but he easily pins me to the wall just outside the dimly-lit ballroom.

“You want out of here, yes?”

I nod, go limp and hope he’ll loosen his grip. He doesn’t.

“What if I’m the only way?”

My gaze drops to his belt, searching for any way I might fend him off. His belt holds a single blade, unsheathed and tucked through a loop. But one look tells me all I need to know. I won’t touch it. It whispers to me of arcane things and darkness, of the Seelie and the Unseelie, and worst of all, of war and disaster. Shuddering, I look away. It gives no sign that it might harm its owner or even me, but something about it is simply unsettling.

The man gives me a feral grin. “I asked a question. What if I am your only escape?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That if you want to escape this cursed mansion, you will have to come to me.” He leans closer until his lips brush the shell of my ear. “It’s a simple choice. Die here or take just a single sip from my cup.”

“Your cup?” I peer at the wall across from us as if it might contain answers and try not to notice how closely his body presses against mine. 

“I left it in the ballroom when I came to fetch you.” He pulls away and grabs my wrist, tugging me through the doors. “You can either drink from it or starve to death in this place.”

“Why isn’t there an escape?”

His grip tightens. “Because of fate. Or because of whatever it is that will make you feel better about what is going to happen.”

My gut clenches. I stare at the object that is resting under the unfiltered brilliance of the strange crack in the wall. An odd liquid that looks silver in nature swirls about in the cup. “You want me to drink that? It looks like it might kill me.”

He forces me to my knees before kneeling beside me. “It won’t. Just one sip. One tiny sip, and you’ll be freed.”

I reach out and pick up the cool metal cup. “Just one?”

“Just one.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I lift the cup to my lips and take a tiny sip of the liquid. At first, a sweet and spicy tang fills my mouth. Then the bitterness hits, and I gag, choking on what I swallowed. It burns all the way down my throat and sets a fire in my belly. The warmth isn’t unpleasant, but I don’t like it all the same. “What is this stuff?”

He gives me a mysterious smile, and the liquid in the cup begins to change to gas, billowing out of the cup and flowing over me. It seeps into my pores and invades my nose, drying my throat and leaving the same cloying taste of sweet, spicy, and bitter on my tongue. “W-what have you done?”

He laughed and laced his fingers through mine as every nerve in my body burned and ached. “Made you mine.”

~~~

That’s it for this post, everyone! If you have something you’d like to see for future Flash Fiction Fridays, feel free to leave the suggestion in the comments below!