Back in August, I posted a snippet of the novel I’m working on.  I’ve written approximately 330 pages in that novel now.  Here’s another bit of it that I wrote last night.

–

When the flat of the wooden blade slapped against her thigh, Siari Eodaisti knew she had won.  Irothy never really did understand how to make an attack against the lower body without overextending himself, and she took full advantage of that knowledge, lunging forward.  Before he had even begun to retract his blade, she held one of her practice daggers along the length of his jaw and the other at the shoulder joint of his sword arm, and Irothy’s startled gaze met hers for only a moment before his expression smoothed into an insouciant grin.

“I hope I bruised you,” he said, dropping the tip of his weapon to the ground.  “You’re too bloody fast.”

With a laugh, she lowered her weapons as well.  “Being ‘too bloody fast’ is my job, after all.”  Standing this close to one another, she could smell the sweat mingled with the dirt raised by their feet on him, musky and sweet.  Damp tendrils of hair clung to his forehead, and she could feel them on hers as well; she stepped back, swiping them away with her forearm.   “Besides, you still forget to keep your weight balanced when you swing for your opponent’s legs.”

He eyed her.  “I need a drink,” he turned away, towards the cups of water waiting for them on a table in the shade of on overhanging roof nearby, “but then, another round.”

“If you wish,” she agreed, following.  Sheathing the daggers on her belt, she wondered what had gotten into him.  Although Irothy enjoyed dueling with her, in all of their years practicing together he never wanted to continue for this long, and certainly not when she beat him handily time after time.  He kept making the same error, she kept chastising him, and he kept insisting they fight again.

There could not be a day better suited to being outdoors, however, so perhaps that motivated him.  Signs of spring penetrating the chill of winter had been teasing them for weeks, and finally today the cloud cover disappeared, letting the sun shine forth and steal the last hints of icy dampness from the ground.  Light breezes that cooled their sweat-speckled skin just enough for comfort swept in from the east, off the grasslands.  The estate showed signs of awakening, as well, and all around them the servants wandered to and fro, working casually, taking the time to stop and speak with one another.  Irothy had grown up with them all and treated them kindly, never making them feel as if they were less than human, and they kept the estate in pristine condition.

Siari folded her legs beneath her as she settled down onto one of the wicker chairs set at the table.  “So tell me, what’s on your mind?  You’re not being yourself.”

She expected him to dilly-dally and step around the question, but instead he took a gulp of water before answering simply, “Spring is coming.”

“So it is.  What of it?”

He placed the cup on the table, both hands wrapped around it.  “I’m getting married this summer.”

Despite herself, she felt a tightness in her chest and a stab of jealousy in her stomach.  “Yes, you are.”  She raised her cup to her lips, looking away from him and watching a pair of stablehands currying a horse on the other side of the practice yard.

His voice dropped low. “Dariaine will be in the city soon.  Will you accompany me to visit her next week?”

“Of course,” she answered.  He sounded like a love-sick puppy. “Of course I will.”

Dariaine Enveri, so far as Siari could tell, cared for little outside of her reputation, her religion, and her future husband.  The noblewoman certainly did not care for Irothy’s childhood friend, companion, and bodyguard, and made no secret of her unwilling tolerance of Siari’s presence any time they were around one another.

Across the yard, the horse tossed his head rebelliously, snorting in the clean, crisp springtime air.  “Perhaps we could go for a ride later, Irothy,” she suggested. “The horses could use the exercise.”

“Do you think a horse would make a fine wedding gift for her?”

Siari’s grip tensed further, her fingertips turning white. “She’ll certainly make use of one when she comes to live here, so yes.”

“Perhaps a gray one.  Or should she have white? A lady ought to have a white horse, don’t you think?”

When had he become so infernally obsessed with Dariaine?  “Any horse will do.”  She stood, slamming the cup down on the table hard enough that some of the water sloshed up over the side and across her hand.  “Are you rested?  I believe I owe you another humbling.”

Irothy glanced over at her.  “Is something wrong?”

Men. At least he’d be someone else’s problem soon enough.  “Nothing at all.” She forced a smile to her lips.  “I’m happy that you’re happy, Irothy.  I just wish it were with someone who enjoys my company.”

“Well,” he said, sauntering to the center of the yard with her, “regardless of how you she feels about you, you aren’t going anywhere.  And who knows, perhaps she has a handsome cousin or somesuch that you can fall for.”

“I could certainly use the company of someone easy on my eyes.”  She ducked beneath the playful slap he aimed at her shoulder and jabbed her elbow into his side, just as he locked his arm around her neck and tugged her against his body.  With a squeal, she struggled against him, trying to leverage her weight to throw him off-balance, but he held her too close.  When it came to purely physical contests, he always had the advantage.  His musky scent filled her nostrils.  “Hopefully he smells better, too.”

Irothy scoffed, tightening his choke hold on her.  “I’m insulted. Maybe I’ll just hold you here until” – he grunted as she batted at him with her fists – “you apologize.  Profusely.”

Here’s a glimpse at what, other than Maia, has been occupying my time:

—

From high above, the ship appeared as but a speck on the vast ocean, floating in a beam of silver-capped waves highlighted by the moon.  Gliding carelessly on the wind sweeping from the mountainous coast of Prys and east over the water towards the Isles of Kelepi, the salt-hawk noticed the vessel only because a glint of gold shone on the deck.  Dipping a red-tipped wing, it began spiraling downwards.

Towards the boat the salt-hawk curved, seeking again the sparkle of gold, finding it now at the stern of the twin masted ship where two figures stood, cloaked, hoods pulled up against the sea spray that fanned towards them.  One, the smaller of them, gestured and there the salt-hawk saw the gold, gleaming on pale flesh.  Still, it alighted atop the rear of the stern where it overhung the water, waiting for something verminous to emerge from the shadows.

The figures did not seem to notice the bird settling near them.  The smaller one, emphasizing words with movements of its hands, spoke: “We’re halfway home.  I hope.  This has been more adventure than I expected.”

The taller, hands resting atop the wooden railing that bordered the entire vessel, stood in silence.  This one held itself in utter stillness, a predator waiting for the right moment to strike or perhaps prey hoping to escape notice, but most certainly one accustomed to the balance of the wild. “Winter is coming, and will hold us in the mountains.  If we had not dallied on the islands…”

“Dallied?” the short one laughed. “Blessed be, that we were able to leave at all amazes me.”

“It was treacherous,” the taller allowed, “and hopefully, our return is less so.”

For long moments, their words quieted.  Beneath the susurration of waves against the ship, the salt-hawk caught a slight scratching – a rodent, somewhere nearby.  Head canted, it peered into the shadows cast by the cabin on the stern, waiting.

Then the shorter one said, turning to the taller, “You should give this a chance.  You and I.”  A pause, before a breathy whisper that nearly escaped on the wind: “Please.”