Usually people refer to the “gems” in editing in regards to moments of utter, amazing brilliance. So I have been going through my work in progress, currently titled Bloodstone, a romantic fantasy with intrigue based loosely in the 14th century, and I discovered this “gem” while editing. To give it its full impact, I quote it here unaltered, and I hope that my readers will enjoy it in its artistic and amazing beauty.
Felicity was not in bed. This was surprising, given that she had reportedly taken to long bouts of mourning and sleeping. I stepped inside, moved the curtains out of the way, and my breath caught in my throat.
There was the cloak I had sewn and Felicity had taken, sprawled across her unmoving body. A long slash was through its green-gray fabric, and that slash was wet and dark with gleaming, fresh blood. There was also a man stooping over her, checking her throat, moving aside the half-put down golden braids.
I would recognize that form anywhere.
The word hung in midair before I knew I had said it; my lips were numb, my face was drawn, and likely pale. I couldn’t believe it. Then I remembered his enccounter with Bartholomew, the way he had taken the prince’s money, and Sevarius’s promise that there would only be one candidate for the throne.
I hadn’t thought…I hadn’t thought that Sevarius would kill Felicity. She was dumb, yes, but I thought that was all part of what made her so good to to do something gah Zech stopped me. Ahs yes she was dumb and that was what made her an ideal person to manipulate and control.
i stared at them and i realized, slowly, that yes, Sevarius had killed her. He stood up, and turned to see me.
He said, “Belle, stay right there.”
“So you can kill me, too?” I spat out the words before I gave them much thought; i was no good when I was in shock, and I did not follow Mtoher’s advice to think first. Likely I was only giving him ideas.
“There are guards outside. How did you get in?”
Like I was going to tell him now. “Secrets, my dear one. Secrets I’ll take to my grave.”
He snapped, “I’m not going to kill you.”
Funny, that. Witnesses are never good to have, particularly slaves.
Obviously, there are spelling errors, capitalization issues, and all that good stuff I am accustomed to correcting. But that right there in the center is what happens when I lose my train of thought and have to find some way, any way at all, of getting back onto that train again. Even if it means terrible, terrible sentences for the first few minutes.
Just so you know, Zech is my husband and is in no way a cameo in the tale. It is also not very often that I actually make notes like this, so it was quite jarring. Sorry, those sentences are not remaining in the actual manuscript. But I thought I would share and give people a chuckle anyway.
Finishing up Chapter 8 of Bloodstone,