These sentences are from my never-ending draft of Acelet's story. (Yes, I know I said I was taking a break to work on The Lady and the Minstrel, but now I'm taking a break from The Lady and the Minstrel to work on Acelet's story again.)
Tuesday: Acelet bowed, torn between excitement to hear his name coupled with that very personification of all his dearest held knightly ideals, the great William Marshal, concern for the soaring expectations he knew such praise would raise in his beloved’s breast, and a fervid hope that Aigar would never recognize himself as the inspiration for the giant that Acelet was composing in his head.
Thursday: So impressed had the duke been with Acelet’s gift of speed and accuracy that he had made Acelet one of his own squires, set him to training with Aigar, and vowed to knight him along with forty other of his vassals’ sons before another fortnight expired.
Friday: A muttered curse at last drew Acelet’s attention, for it matched exactly the sort of blasphemous invective he expected the duke to loose upon his head.
Saturday: Acelet would have thought she and Sir Raimon disliked one another with a passion, had he seen either of them betray so much as a hint of heat in their natures.
(Remember, these are from a draft, so cut my sentence lengths a little slack, okay?)
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