This Saturday, I am offering a first glimpse at Word and Deed. A Medieval short story about a woman torn between the man she is honor-bound to marry (through no decision of her own) and the servant who is stealing her heart. The excerpt begins as she is recovering from a physical altercation with her half-brother, Verdon.
Three days later, I rose from bed. The afternoon sun shone beyond the lattice, beckoning me. The sight nurtured my already restless spirit into mobility. I was intent on a turn in the garden and at least a semblance of freedom for my tortured soul. My body still ached and sudden changes threw my balance, but I fixed my purpose and pressed forward.
Nurse Ealdine, having used two of the three allotted hours on breaking fast and serving the midday meal, would not return until after nightfall. That gave me time to creep down the stairs to sit in the sun at least.
Walking across the warped floor boards proved an uneventful task. However, upon opening the door to the outside, the sight of the narrow, steep descent to the ground two levels below, my grasp of balance wavered. I dropped to sit on the doorsill and lowered my head into my hands.
“Might I assist you?”
I lifted my head and instantly regretted it.
“Steady, miss, steady. Don’t go toppling on me. I don’t wish another death on my account.”
I blinked in the sunlight, struggling to place the source of the voice. Finally, a movement brought my focus to where the stairs spilled into the garden. He stood, left boot on the first step. Gaining only an impression of graying brown hair and sun-browned hands, I lowered my head once again.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Bryn Wolfe. And you?”
“I am Maven Faye.”
“Ah, the maid in the tower, I was warned about you.” He stepped off the bottom of the stairs and leaned against the tower wall, his face still in shadow.
“’The maid yonder has a shrewish tongue.’”
“Hardly a warning since I am already betrothed. If you no wish to listen, you can leave.”
“Ah, so I heard. It is to the Silvaticus, the crazed.”
Straightening my shoulders, I glared down at him for a moment. “I will not allow you to speak thus of my betrothed.”
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Question: Do you wish to read more of Word and Deed?