Here are some new sentences from Emilie's story.
Monday: He vaguely remembered smiling down at her, drinking her in from head to toes, astonished that the loveliness he had thought unsurpassable seven years ago had blossomed like one of the queen’s luscious flowers into the exotic woman before him.
Tuesday: “You are one of the queen’s wild young men,” she’d said without a glimmer of recognition in her intoxicating eyes.
Wednesday: Suddenly the grand heroes of those tales, through whose romantic pursuits he had impatiently chewed his lip until the teller resumed more practical themes, such as battling entire armies single handed and cutting off the heads of enchanted knights dressed in green, transformed in his imagination.
Thursday: (Out of town, home too late to write)
Friday: Golden haired, seraph-eyed Andreu, who had served Crespin’s father as squire as Crespin served Sir Jaques, and with the turn of one day into his twenty-first year, knelt in Queen Eleanor’s hall to receive the buffet of his father’s sword and rose to a fanfare of trumpets, the newest knight in the duchy.
Saturday: (Friday was a bad writing session, hence the awful sentence above. I rewrote it on Saturday this way:) Golden haired, seraph-eyed Andreu, just turned one-and-twenty, freshly knighted, heir to a barony as handsome as his face, and already possessed of a sophisticated elegance of manner, could have plucked any of the dozens upon dozens of radiant young ladies who lit up the queen’s court for his coveted attentions.