Book Update!

Hey guys! I have some very exciting news...

     On Tuesday, I completed outlining the fifth draft of my book—chapter by chapter!! It was completely necessary because I have twelve—er, now it's just eleven, sorry Comet—characters and four POVs to keep track of, plus countless different relationships to develop and blah, blah, blah. (It's just a lot! XD) I also wrote a lovely scene with my two favorite characters... Oh, you want to read it? Well, if you must...

     Although, now that I think about it, perhaps you should read their debut chapter first. Okay, okay, here's what I'll do: you can read their debut chapter today, and I'll give you the other scene in my next post. :) Also, fair warning: this scene is missing one tid-bit of dialogue. It's not terrible, but it is, well, unfinished. Just thought I'd give you the heads up!

Chapter 3

Citrine

August 6th, 1924

     I can hardly remember the last time a boy pursued me as relentlessly as Storm does at the moment—perhaps because I’m only just coming into the early stages of womanhood, or, perhaps this might be most plausible, because no boy my age has ever tried to kill me. I duck away from his sword with more effort than I’ve become used to and try to swipe his legs out from beneath him, but Storm jumps back just in time to avoid me. He drives me away with advancing steps, his sword and mine moving nearly in sync in a murderous dance. 

     Six… five… four… I count backwards with each step I take, carefully gauging the shortening distance between myself and the stone wall. At the last moment, I break my predictable patterns and swipe at his side, dancing around him and driving him into the wall. I can hear my breath as I hold my sword tip to his chest, and a triumphant smirk lifts the corner of my mouth.

     But Storm is grinning, too. I follow his gaze to find his own sword pressed against my padded chest, poised to pierce it at any moment. “It seems, Princess, that we’re at an impasse,” he pants, sweat trickling down the side of his face.

     I release him from the wall and sheathe my sword, and he does the same.

     “Who are you, and what have you done with Storm Sagewood?” I cross my arms playfully.

     “Oh, you know—I’ve been practicing a bit in my time off.” He brushes his silver bangs out of his eyes and flashes me a lop-sided smirk.

     “You mean, between mucking out the stalls and picking poop out of horseshoes?”

     “It’s almost alarming how you always seem to have the higher ground despite the fact that you’re three inches shorter than me.”

     “Not when I’m in heels.”

     “You fight in platform boots.”

     “So do you—and they’re most unflattering on a guy.”

     “I disagree. I find them rather becoming.”

     “That’s why you could never pursue a career in stableboy fashion.”

     Storm claps a hand over his heart and shakes his head. “All my biggest hopes and dreams, shattered.”

     I roll my eyes, smiling, and give him a shove on his shoulder before heading over to Master Hemlock. The old general’s face is set in a stony expression from his seat on the bench, and anyone who doesn’t know him would think he’s just witnessed the worst possible display of swordsmanship in all of Reverie Realm. But I know that he’s extremely impressed, with one person in particular. Storm and I stop a few feet before him and bow.

     “It seems,” he begins, his left hand rubbing the gray stubble along his chin, “that the two of you have become almost an even match. You’ve improved greatly in these past few days, Mr. Sagewood. Have you been studying?”

     “Yes sir.”

     Master Hemlock launches into his notes; don’t stab forward with the sword until the last moment; don’t neglect to hold the hilt with both hands if necessary; don’t leave your left side undefended—that one was directed at me. When he’s through, he politely dismisses me and asks Storm if he has a moment to speak. I set off to the other side of the courtyard with the intention of waiting for Storm to come up later with the good news, but a dark figure passes through my peripheral view. I turn to find my sister returning from a ride, slumped against Luna’s thick mane, her face an unsettling shade of green.

     “Clementine!” I exclaim, racing towards her. “Are you—is she alright?” I turn to the unicorn, my brows creased with worry.

     “I’m not unconscious,” Clementine rasps, hardly moving. “I just need—” her voice cracks, but I can guess the end of her sentence.

     “Let’s get you to the kitchens.” I pat Luna’s neck gently, and the unicorn kneels so that I’m able to drag Clementine off her saddle. I wrap her arm around my shoulders despite her protests—she most certainly is not fine—and start off slowly to the doors near the pavilion.

     I catch Storm’s gaze and nod towards Luna, who’s harassing a family of birds with her magic at the moment, and he whistles in an attempt to get her to stop, and when that doesn’t work he apologizes to Master Hemlock and runs over to her.

     Clementine causes a bit of a ruckus once inside the castle. Servants exclaim over her green pallor and ask if I need any help, and isn’t Clementine a bit heavy for me? But of course they aren’t implying anything about her weight, and it isn’t that they don’t think I'm capable— and I dismiss them each time with a polite smile, but not before Clementine can snap at them to mind their own.

     “I can see you forgot your flask,” I say, blinking in slight awe as she downs an entire pitcher of water, skipping the formality of a cup.

     She shakes her head, her hands at her temples. “I drank that, too.”

     “Ah! Well then.” I slide a plate of cucumber sandwiches her way. We sit across from each other at the small white table set in the brightest corner of the kitchens, the arched gable windows casting filtered sunlight across our faces. The room is buzzing with aproned personnel, split neatly into various stations of food preparation. Bronze sconces line the stone walls, their golden light reflecting off the gleaming countertops and illuminating the familiar dance of the cooks. A little ways to my right, standing in front of the drying herbs, a stocky man in a gently stained apron grinds spices with a mortar and pestle, the crunch and warm smell of tarragon and rosemary filling the air, mingling with the sharp, eye-watering tang of chopped onions.

     A quartet of kitchen hands move in sync at a countertop nearby, their knives flashing with each precise stroke as they reduce carrots, turnips, and leeks to uniform cubes. Each slice releases a delightful crunch, adding a crisp, fresh smell to the atmosphere.

     A butcher sizes down a cut of pork on the island, his cleaver thudding against the wooden block with that effortless sense of expertise I’ve grown so accustomed to finding within the palace walls.

     To my left, cast-iron pans hiss on the stovetops as cold vegetables and meat are tossed onto their oiled surfaces, and a recently hired apprentice stirs diligently with a wooden spatula, beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. Another apprentice sits by the fire, feeding split logs into its greedy mouth to keep the stovetops warm. 

     Magnolia Hazelwood, the head chef and a tall, intimidating woman, barks orders at the kitchen hands, occasionally pausing her rampage to tell somebody off or taste a sauce or dressing.

     Clementine pokes the tiny sandwiches and her nose crinkles in distaste. “I despise cucumbers,” she complains.

     “Since when?”

     “Since last Friday when they were slipped into an awful liquid health concoction at breakfast.”

     I shrug and put the plate aside. “So… whatever happened to you?”

     “I threw up, remember?”

   “No, no, I don’t mean with vegetables—what happened while you were out that you rode in looking like a ghost?”

     “Oh, that.” Clementine’s eyes glint with mischief as she turns them towards the window, thinking. Her lips quirk in a small smile and she tilts her head at me. “You wouldn’t believe it, but—”

     “Hello, girls!” She’s interrupted by Magnolia, who just approached us from behind me. She gives a start at the sight of my sister. “Clementine! Are you alright?”

     Clementine nods and rubs her right eye. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just tired. How are you, Maggie?”

     “I’m doing well. We just had some strawberries delivered this afternoon for the cake you wanted to recreate.”

     My face lights up. 

{{Add a summary of their conversation. We don’t need a play-by-play but just so we know what they talk about.}}

     “Well, I should get back to the food. Give my respects to Regent Oleander this evening, girls. Goodnight!” Magnolia says, smiling, as she turns to leave.

     “Goodnight!” I say.

     Clementine furrows her brows. “Oleander?” she repeats. “He was just over last week.”

     “Perhaps he has good news,” I suggest.

     Clementine only raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure.” She casts one last disapproving glance at the sandwiches before standing up. “I should go wash up before tonight. I’ll see you at dinner.”

     “Wait—do you suppose Willow knows Oleander is visiting? Shall we let her know?”

     She lifts a single shoulder in a non-committal gesture. “If you’d like. Although I’m sure she’d have found out already by way of the staff.”

     Clementine disappears through the vaulted archway, leaving me alone in the kitchen din and with my whirling thoughts. I glance out the window and into the courtyard, which is filled with the warm sun of the late afternoon. I spot Storm disappearing through a servants’ entrance into the palace, and I know he’ll be along soon with good news and a smug grin.

     I can’t help but dread dinner tonight, and cross all my lucky stars hoping that whatever reason has Oleander visiting twice in two weeks is decidedly good. I pick up a strawberry pastry that one of the workers laid quietly beside me and bring it to my mouth. Ah well. Whatever comes this evening, I’ll be ready.

     …I hope.

---

     So, yes, my favorite characters are Storm and Citrine. Citrine and Storm. Citristorm. c; They're just... they're so cute!

     Ah, where was I before that...? Oh yes. I'M EVER SO EXCITED! This draft is the final one between my book and Beta Readers, which means the release date for The Secret of Moonflower Valley is very near. I obviously don't have an exact date, but I should be publishing sometime during 2027. (I'll be turning seventeen that year. Oh my GOOGLE DOCS!!) Isn't that exciting?

     On a completely unrelated but equally exciting topic, I had my very first job interview today. I think it went splendidly. I shall keep you all updated in the days to come!

Thank you for reading!

May you face your endlessly blinking cursor with bravery,

Leah Larkspur