…And actually feeling better than I have in months, if not years. Plus my computer's motherboard has been replaced (…twice), and I have a (…slow) backup computer, now, in case that happens again. *whew*
So that means it's time to come back to this blog and resurrect things. I definitely want to revisit the site appearance and maybe even start hosting it on my website, which has gotten a pretty overhaul—but beyond that… *shrug*
What do you want from me?
I have some ideas for what I want to do with the blog now, but hey, y'all are my readers. What do you want to see? Let me know!
In the meantime, here's a snippet from the prologue for the in-progress A Fistful of Water, which should have a release date announcement in the next few weeks:
All Runners know proper court decorum and are necessarily hard to rattle, so William’s expression makes my mouth go dry. “What? What’s wrong?” My voice quivers. “Is it Silva?”
William drops his gaze to the floor for a long moment, then glances pointedly at the side table by the fireplace, where Father keeps his chess set.
A chess set that’s no longer there.
I draw a sharp breath. “Father’s leaving?”
“Likely so,” he says quietly. “Some of the hunting party’s returned, and they found…”
I flinch. I know what they found—or rather, whom. I was an infant when the family made the arrangements that mean I see my father rarely enough as it is, and once she gets here…
My eyes burn, and a sob catches in my throat. “Don’t I get to say good-bye?”
William and my aunt exchange another meaningful look. Even this boy my age knows more about what’s going on with my family than I do, and he’s just a castle hireling. I try not to think about it, but my stomach sours.
“He isn’t back yet,” William replies, “but your mother’s prepping everything for him to leave as soon as possible. We’ll try to get him to stay a day or so, to say good-bye, but Elwyn’s a stubborn one.”
“We?” And since when was my father on a first-name basis with the Runners?
He pauses, glancing again at my aunt. “His Majesty has tasked me to help delay your father’s departure.”
“You?” I ask stupidly, not comprehending. “Not Head Matron Morgana?”
“It’s best she be left out of this.” William’s expression softens. “People ignore Runners, for the most part, so we can be good for certain…quiet jobs.”
“Just be careful,” Aunt Trelanna says. “That woman is vicious.”
If she’s so problematic, why doesn’t Uncle fire her?
William smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yes.”
A Fistful of Water
What do you want to see on this blog? More snippets? More writing process and news? More everyday life stuff? Something else? Let me know!
—Misti
