Hello and welcome to another round of Weekend Writing Warriors. I missed last week, but I had a very good excuse; a three night writers’ retreat on the coast. I can’t tell you how good it felt to get away with like-minded folk to do nothing but write, write, write. And chat of course. It’s great to be around people who “get” me and don’t blink an eye when I talk about characters taking over the story and doing their own thing, plot be damned.
So far Prince Gabriel is acting like a well-behaved character should, but there are others lurking in the coming pages who just refuse to cooperate. We’ll be meeting one of them soon, but for now, Gabriel is still preparing for his big speech at this evening’s feast.
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Gabriel and his unwanted retinue clamored up a wide, winding staircase and soon arrived at his chambers on the third floor. He was stripped, washed clean of mud and dressed in a close fitting tunic quartered in dark blue and black panels. His father’s family crest, a lion standing on its hind legs, was embroidered in red silk thread over his heart. Around his hips he wore a thick leather girdle that held the ceremonial sword he’d been given on his sixteenth birthday. Wearing this rich attire, he felt slightly less self-conscious about the crown, which was merely a circlet of gold, after all. It did, unfortunately, serve to set off how much closer to white than blond his hair really was.
Servants held up mirrors, and despite the manly outfitting, Gabriel recognized his mother staring back at him. He shared her blue eyes and slight build, which was fine for a queen but less than desirable for a prince.
“Enough of that,” he said, waving away the attendants, who all seemed very busy though he couldn’t imagine why. At Craigmoor, he’d managed just fine with one manservant.
That’s the official ten. Here’s a bit more:
He turned to face an array of adornments Webster held out for him on a silver tray. Gabriel was about to wave those away as well when a thought occurred to him. “Where’s my mother’s brooch?”
“Which one, sire?” Webster asked, face sagging. A dozen fine pendants and pins glinted in the candlelight. Gabriel had left them all behind when he left Rosenthal, tucked away in the black lacquered chest in his sitting room, and he was sure Webster had been delighted to discover them.
“A silver stag’s head.”
Blurb in progress for Snow:
Following the death of his mother the Queen, Prince Gabriel returns home for the first time in three years. Gabriel hopes for a reconciliation with his estranged brother, the new king, but all is not well at Castle Rosenthal. King Tristan has fallen under the sway of a mysterious noble woman with a dark past, and all along the border of the Black Forest, magical denizens are on the move. Gabriel begins to fear for his life. Is the handsome huntsman in on a plot to assassinate him, or is there an even darker, more evil power afoot? A forced flight into the Black Forest may expose ancient magic at work, if Gabriel can survive long enough to uncover it.
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Alexis Duran 