Some writing days were better than others this week, but I managed to make some progress with Lucianna's story. Here's a sampling of sentences for the week.
Monday: The
humiliation and grief Serafino had cast upon Lucianna that day would flare up
from its long-buried depths if she thought Vincenzo remembered her as anything
more than a vague, pitiful moment from his past.
Tuesday: He would
not guess that she had deliberately chosen for her dining attire colors that
would wash her complexion out and allow all the flaws of her forty-four year
old face to shine through.
Thursday: Lucianna
kept her gaze strictly fixed on the tables below the dais where the rest of the
household knights and men-at-arms dined, no matter how hungrily her eyes longed
to drift to the face of the man who sighed rather dispiritedly beside her,
starved for his features after his week’s-long absence from Vere Castle.
Friday: (Sir Balduin to Triston) “He
confessed to me in that naïve way of his that the cadence of the horse’s paces
sometimes drifts his mind into melody—aye, sir, absurd! But that is Acelet for
you.”
Saturday: Siri
had said she would not try to change Lucianna’s mind about Sir Balduin, but if
a hodgepodge on his trencher gave Sir Balduin hope that Lucianna was having
second thoughts and encouraged him to try to change her mind himself, Siri must
think her conscience at quits.
