A little less than a year ago, I began work on what I hoped would be my first novel. It was an ambitious project for a first attempt. My initial word count goal was 150,000 words, and I had only the vaguest outline of a story I wanted to tell. What was clear in my mind was the world in which I wanted my story to take place, and the characters who would inhabit that world. I started writing. Before I knew it, I’d gotten to 20,000 words. Then 30,000. Then 50,000. When I reached 70,000 words, rather being proud of reaching that milestone, I’d grown dissatisfied with the story I’d begun to craft. I wasn’t happy with the pacing, the tone, or the character development up to that point. I was beginning to wonder if the story that was in front of me was really the kind of story I’d set out to tell.
Right now, it feels like the story got away from me. Looking back, I think I had the right mindset going into it (just write and worry about whether or not it’s good later), but I also think it spun out of control somewhere along the line. I’ve tried writing from an outline in the past, but found it impossible to make any really progress. In the writing of the outline itself, I would find myself growing bored or agitated with the story and decide not to bother even starting it. So this time around, I decided to go back to the method that had brought me so much joy as a kid… just write and see where it takes me. I’d say results were mixed. I managed to write a lot, but I can’t really speak to the quality of the writing.
Anyway, all of this is a rather long-winded way of saying, I’m not sure if I’ll actually finish the novel or not. But, given that I did get a lot of work done on it, it feels like a shame to just let it sit on my hard drive, never to see the light of day. So here’s what I’ve decided to do:
I’m going to release what there is of the novel here, for free.
I will be posting it in parts, essentially a chapter at a time, with no more editing than has already been done on it. If it’s well received, I may consider picking it up where I left off, so if you end up enjoying it, please feel free to leave a comment. If it is ever finished, I will make it available in eBook format here, so keep an eye out for that.
With that said, please enjoy the Prologue of The Twilight Diadem…
Prologue
Evelien slipped quietly into the clearing, slightly out of breath, though she wasn’t sure if that was from exertion or anticipation. The clearing was empty; she was early. She took a moment to glance around, savoring the silent splendor that surrounded her. There was a slight chill in the night air, and she drew her thick, dark cloak tightly around herself. Silver moonlight glinted off countless dewdrops in the velvet greenery of the clearing floor, dampening the fur trim around the bottom edge of her cloak and the shifting brocade skirts of her gown. She gazed up into the night sky, admiring the twinkle of the stars above between silver clouds that drifted lazily across the heavens. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply of the sweet scent of wildflowers on the evening breeze, a small smile of pleasure bowing her lips, as she let the night’s magic wash over her.
She felt a feather light touch at her waist, the only hint of his arrival she got in the split second before his lips claimed hers and his warmth engulfed her, strong arms coming around her to draw her to him. His kiss was always both demand and question, tasting of the sweetness of summer berries and the intoxicating warmth of honeywine. She melted into him, her ardor easily a match for his. She reveled in his embrace. These stolen moments with him cast a spell of their own, further enhanced by the dreamy spell of the forest. It did not require a great leap of logic to understand why his people found moonlit forests so beguiling. To go with him was the most cherished wish of her heart, but she knew well the duty she had to her family, and so she must be content with these precious interludes.
Once they’d satisfied the urges of their bodies, they lie, limbs entwined, cradled in the soft grasses of the clearing midst their strewn clothing, her heavy cloak drawn over them to fend off the nip of night’s chill. In this, they satisfied the urges of their hearts, holding each other close and whispering soft words of love and devotion.
“I would trade anything to stay here with you like this forever,” she murmured wistfully, nuzzling against him. He smelled faintly of wood smoke and leather, as he always did, and she savored it greedily.
“I could never ask it of you,” he replied, a note of sadness in his deep voice. “You are as tied to your people as am I, with duties of your own to fulfill.” She signed with resignation. This was a conversation they’d had many times, and the outcome was always the same. They came from different worlds, and to their own worlds they must inevitably return. “The love we have shared, I will carry with me always,” he went on, hugging her close against his chest and lifting his head to plant soft kisses in her raven hair.
“As will I.”
They held each other thus until the first rays of the sun pinked the sky above, gilding the clouds and chasing away the stars, both unwilling to relinquish the other prematurely. But the time came, as it always did, to dress and say their goodbyes. Evelien hated it. Her heart ached horribly, feeling like a ball of iron in her chest. Her movements were sluggish as she drew on her gown, her dark eyes sad and downcast. He reached out a hand, brushing her hair back from her cheek. His leaf green eyes searched her face, an uncharacteristic furrow in his brow as a single tear slid silently down her cheek.
“I should never have pursued you,” he chastised himself miserably. Her face shot up, her eyes, frantic, bored into his.
“No! Don’t think it!” She exclaimed. “I knew from the start our time together would be brief, and I decided then that I would rather spend my life carrying your memory in my heart than regret never knowing your touch.” She touched his cheek gently, smiling sadly. “Surely we will see each other again some day, though by then I may be old and gray. You may not wish to see me then.”
“No matter how much time passes, to me, you will always be as you are now,” he smiled at her, then bent his head for a lingering kiss. “We will see each other again some day, have no doubt. Though the wilderness calls and my people and I must answer, know that I will carry you with me in my heart and look forward to the day when my eyes may rest once more on your beauty.”
“The poetry of elves!” She laughed. He smiled at her in wry acknowledgment. “I would hear such words of love from you every day for the rest of my life if I could. But I understand. You must go. And so too should I. If I’m not shortly returned to my chambers, my absence will surely be noted.”
He drew a delicate silver chain from around his neck, an intricately engraved crescent moon charm hanging from it. He placed it carefully over her head, settling the charm gently against her breast.
“To remind you always of my love for you,” he said quietly.
“I will cherish it, and my memories of you, always,” she promised.
He bent and kissed her again, drawing her into his arms for a final embrace. He held her tightly, reluctant to let her go but knowing he must.
“I love you,” he said sadly when at last their lips parted. She smiled up at him.
“I love you, too, my prince,” with a final flashing smile, she turned and ran from the clearing. She wanted his last memory of her to be a smile, not tears, and she feared if she did not flee, her resolve would crumble entirely.
She ran the whole way home, fearing that if she slowed, she would be lost. The tears were coming, she knew, a torrent that would engulf her utterly and leave her bereft. She had only to make it to her chambers before that happened. Run! She thought frantically. Run! The familiar path beneath her slippers was a blur. The padding of her footsteps matched the pounding of her heart. Before she scarcely knew where she was, she was back in her chambers, back pressed to the door and breath coming in great heaving gasps. She slumped to the floor in a heap of damp skirts as her resolve finally left her, and the tears came then, hot and bitter. She gave herself over to them, sobbing out her heartbreak in soft, broken cries.
It wasn’t long before her maid found her thus. The poor girl was at a loss as to what could have caused her mistress such distress. She received no responses beyond choked cries to any of her entreaties, and finally, with no better ideas, she helped her mistress to her feet and over to the bed, where she removed the sodden cloak and skirts before bundling her mistress, still sobbing, into bed, where she would remain for several days.
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