Summary Sunday

Here are some new lines from my never-ending draft of Acelet's story. (Acelet was a character in my medieval romance, Illuminations of the Heart. For someone who insists he wants his own story, he sure isn't making it easy!)

Monday: The antelope dormant carved into the cherry wood appeared to blink sleepily in the flickering light from the fire. 

Tuesday: Even when singing of swords that hacked through shields and mail links—for Joslin realized that Acelet had slipped from a rhythmical narration into a martial melody—his voice rang truer and sweeter than any other of the duke’s troubadours.

Wednesday: ’Twas as if such a query ripped him with a physical pain from the world of his imagination.

Thursday: Yvain might fight with the precision of a hawk, but Acelet would not survive his first day in battle, no matter how dexterously he whirred his staff on the practice field.