Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples. This week, I chose a bit of my current editing project, Wren Romany. This section comes from Tourth's POV. He, Wren, and his men are about to bring a petition before King Orac in his tent.
A chair, a table, and bare ground were austere surroundings for a king. The scent of trampled grass filled my senses. Heavy canvas separated a small area from the rest of the tent leaving barely room for five men to stand abreast, shoulders almost rubbing. Wren paused at my left, Keaton’s dark body perched on her far shoulder. Tyron flanked her other side. Together we looked like an honor guard for her and her bird. Dardon chose a spot at my right, closer to the men guarding the exit.
“Playing rustic?” Dardon regarded the rough-hewn wood of the table legs and the unpadded seat of the chair with raised eyebrows.
Lord Portan frowned pointedly at him. “Wait here.” He disappeared into the larger area of the tent.
I caught Wren eyeing her surroundings, no doubt marking the exits and the two men flanking the opening to the outside. Tyron edged about uneasily while Dardon slid his sword a few inches out of the scabbard. As I tried to catch Dardon’s gaze to signal him to behave, the canvas parted and Orac stepped into the room.
He looked the same as when I saw him last. A short man, he barely surpassed Wren by an inch or two. He moved with the grace of a boar, but the power of each movement commanded its own form of appreciation. His cool, silver eyes scanned us, beginning with Wren.
“My lady.” He inclined his head slightly to her and Keaton. “We are honored by your presence and your noble bird.”
“I am not of noble birth, your majesty.”
Orac tilted his head to one side. “An honest admission, lady. That alone is worthy of the regard.”
I love Wren, but I am eager to get her off my desk and into the publisher's hands.
Thank you for stopping by for this week's sweet sample.
For more Sweet Saturday Samples, go to:
See you next week. :)