A Taste Of Prophecy…

Here’s a little taste of my current WIP Prophecy!

He’d never seen her touch a sword. In all of these practice sessions she seemed to live for, she not once reached for a blade — or weapon of any kind now that he thought about it. Not that she needed one, her entire body — lent added strength from her half-vampyre heritage — was an effective weapon on its own. He still sported the array of colorful bruises where her iron-like hand had struck days ago. But still, he mused, tapping a sun-bronzed finger to his lips thoughtfully. Still

It wasn’t as though she didn’t know how to wield one. Her every move, so graceful, so controlled and powerful, belied the swordswoman inside. So why pretend otherwise? Was this what she was hiding from, or perhaps at least part of it?

With his heart thrumming inside his chest he watched Kalisada, bored with her opponent, wrestle the large man to the ground, pinning him easily. A proud smile stretched across her beautiful mouth as the sun glinted off her pale, rosy face. She stood, holding out one hand to the man dusting dirt and grass off his face and clothes, and her laugh poured out, bright and happy the way it did only when she forgot herself. Seeing her this way, he hesitated, but curiosity clawed and itched beneath his skin

“Who’s next?” Kali demanded, still playful, still bright.

Mordred moved before he could stop himself. “I am,” he called, making his way through the throng of people gathered outside the practice pitch. Some snickered as he passed, others watched with frank admiration, but he had eyes for no one but her. The sun struck her dark brown hair, throwing a halo of golden light around her and he couldn’t help but find it odd to see his Silver Girl cast in gold. The yellow warmth was harsh, making the fading sunlight garish in her moonlit presence. Humor and recklessness brightened the iridescent flecks of green in her amber eyes as she appraised him with a good-natured smirk.

“Are you sure?” Kali grinned, nodding at his shoulder where his loose blue tunic hid the mosaic of bluish-black marks. “Can you handle it?” she teased.

He grinned, despite the cackling around him and shrugged. “We’ll see.” The buzz around them doubled as men began placing their bets, and was loud enough to drown out the warning ringing inside Mordred’s mind. The heat of the sun-warmed leather-covered hilt felt right in his hand as he plucked it from a stack near the gate ans tossed it high to Kalisada.

“But this time we do it my way,” he grinned, waiting for her to reach out and snatch up the sword before it hit the ground. She didn’t.

The sword fell heavy in the grass by her feet and for a moment he couldn’t take his eyes off it. An icy silence filled the air, stilling the moment until he lifted his gaze. She stood frozen, panting, her eyes wide and panicked as she stared at the blade. She blanched a sickening shade beneath her already pale skin and for a moment he feared she’d be sick where she stood. But when she finally looked up, a thin veneer of control settled over her features and only a slight shaking of her fingers betrayed her as she calmly brushed past him without a word and made for her grandparents’ home. Mordred turned, his eyes following her, as did everyone else, locked in a stunned silence until a roar split the air behind them.

“You filthy son of a whore!” Treyen bellowed, his face dark and contorted with hate as he all but flew to the practice pitch. A few brave men stepped in the vampyre path to slow their prince’s progress but he barreled through them, careless of their pleas to wait, to hear, to think before he did something unforgivable. Only the swift arrival of the king’s guard halted Treyen a few feet from Mordred’s stunned self. The prince strained to get past, but the guards held firm. “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”

“I…I’m sorry, I just…” Mordred fumbled, guilt plowed into him, souring his stomach and nearly knocked him to his knees. What had he done?! The realization nearly choked him: the ease between then, their friendship, that strange warmth…it was ruined, just as he ruined everything. The world tilted sickening.

“Why are you still here?!” Treyen spat, no longer fighting for freedom, but dangerously still. “Why are you still here?!”

Image From Google.

Image From Google.

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