Hello there, and welcome back!! I promised I would share more of my writing, and today is that day! Please, keep in mind that all of the writing here is original, and the property of Taylor Renee Duarte, and protected by copyright. Therefore, it cannot be used by any other parties other than myself for purposes other than what I formally agree to. (Blah, but writers gotta protect themselves, right?)
I wrote this during Nano 2020, and I am happy to finally share a small piece of the story with you. Please keep in mind this is ROUGH DRAFT material. It has a long way to go in the editing process, but I have gone over it a few times myself before posting it here. So I hope it isn’t in too bad of shape! Anyways please be kind, and thank you for taking the time to check it out.
Quick note about the story: This is a fictional fantasy novel about revenge. Enjoy!
Excerpt from my WIP TMOH.
Vaurina
The wind picked up, the waves rocking the boat forward. I steadied myself adapting to the motion of the current beneath us. My hair blew back behind me as I watched the horizon, thinking only of what was to come.
I clutched my hands into fists as I thought over my plan, my fingertips brushed over the scars. I brought my hands up in front of my face staring at them. Two thin slices down each of my palms. Tears welled up in my eyes, the wind of the sea burning them, and I closed my eyes shut, willing them away.
“Are you crying, girl?” My father’s voice taunted, clear in my mind just then. As if I was hearing it aloud, the same as all those years ago. I had let myself cry then, too.
“Emotions don’t control warriors.” He was firm. I looked up at him through my long curtains of hair. His chin was pointed up, his gaze would not touch mine.
I let out an exasperated sob and prepared my stance again. My knees were shaking. I lifted my arms, palms out towards my father. I wasn’t allowed to hold a blade yet. I had not yet earned the right. My father came at me with a lunge and a war cry deep from his belly. Terrified I froze, and the spear sliced my ankle.
“Get up!” He yelled. I felt heat in my chest, as I looked upon his face. His eyes seeing through me, as if I were not truly standing before him.
I grunted in pain but stood. I must keep pushing through it like a warrior should. I lifted my fists, clenching my jaw so hard my teeth ached. I would not cry again.
The metal of the spear pulsed through the air past me, but I was small. I rolled under it missing his strike. My father was fast. He thrust it at me again, the blade hitting the stone floor. He cried out angry, loud, and faster this time. I was slower. I couldn’t miss it.
So, I grabbed it instead.
The end of the blade was in my small hands slicing deep, but I pulled anyways attempting to disarm him. To my surprise, a warrior of Ares, King Daniel, let the spear go. He rushed to me, taking my hands in his, meeting my eyes in his, eyes that matched the same cold blue of his. He inspected the wounds, two deep cuts, my lips trembling threatening tears. I held them back though my throat ached, hot like fire.
“Today you have learned the most valuable lesson there is for a warrior.”
“Sacrifice?” I breathed, a shudder through the pain.
“If you fear neither pain nor death, no one will ever stand in your way, my child.” I peered up into his icy gaze, hanging onto his every word. “Now, all warriors must tend to their wounds. Be quick, your seventh birthday ball is in a few hours.” I nodded, wrapped my hands in cloth, and scurried off to the kitchens looking for my favorite servant, Sophia.
She was leaning over the fire stirring a pot of stew. When she saw me clutching my bloody wrapped fists, she frowned but gestured for me to come sit.
“Have you been crying little Vaurina?” She asked me, wiping a thumb across my cheek. I shook my head, frowning, then leapt up from the seat. My hands folded into fists, my fingers digging into the wounds.
“Wait, sit down, and eat.” I turned back and obeyed. After sitting she extended her hands to me, and sulking, I obeyed her yet again. “Let’s see if you didn’t cause more damage, clenching them like that.” She scolded affectionately.
Her brow furrowed holding my closed fists, and slowly I unfolded my hands.
“Who wrapped this, was it you?” She lifted a thick brown eyebrow. I felt my cheeks begin to flush. She shook her head clicking her tongue. I swung my legs back and forth on the bench as she worked on my hands.
She removed the bandage carefully. The skin red, and bloody. She wrapped my hands in a fresh bandage, pulling the cloth tight. Too tight. I blinked surprised by the pain, and I sucked in a deep breath wincing. I grasped her hands tighter in response. My head felt a bit woozy. I shut my eyes tight. “My princess, are you alright?” She asked, the taste of salt and ash filling my mouth. I smacked my lips together, the taste lingering. My vision blurred and I felt warm all over, deep inside my belly.
Sophia dropped my hands and fell to the floor. I rushed over to her, but I could hardly stand. My knees shook, my body trembling. I fell to my knees, landing awkwardly on my elbows to not hurt my hands. I crawled over to her and shoved her a bit to wake her. Her shoulder slumped back onto the ground as if I never touched her at all. As if she were slumbering deeply.
“Miss Sophia.” I whispered shakily, moving to a sitting position. There was pounding in my ears, and my chest felt a heavy crushing weight.
When my eyes settled on the face of the woman lying beside me it wasn’t Sophia, not really. She was older. Her face had changed, sunk in, darkened with spots, and her hair was grey and white in places that it wasn’t before. I shook her, but she didn’t move. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t blink.
“Miss Sophia.” My voice came out a whisper, tears flooding my eyes, and I shook her once more. I closed my eyes the tears streaming hot down my face and heard my father’s voice in my head again. “Are you crying, girl?”
My father’s voice was in my mind. I couldn’t disappoint him again. A calm came over me, my breathing slowed, and I looked around realizing how quiet it was aside from the crackling of the fire. I stood running for the kitchen door, but I froze. I thought to call out for help, but she was gone. I had done this. If someone found me with her, my mother would have me sent out, or worse. A warrior must not fear death.
The fire was the only light in the room, the flames casting shadows on the stone walls of the kitchen, and onto the grey dress on Sophia’s body. She was so near the fire; it would look like an accident. My lip trembled as the thought entered my mind. I bit down hard, and stood, wiping the tears from my eyes and hardened my face, thinking of my father. A warrior must not fear death.
So, I dragged her body near the fireplace. She was light, her body once plump but now frail and sunken. I stuck her feet into the fire, and I waited for the flames to take hold of the hem of her dress. Once the room was filling with smoke, I flew from the kitchen.
I rushed down the hall to find my father. I kept to the servant’s passageway so my mother’s guests wouldn’t see me like this. I knew these halls well, even in the dark as they were now.
I knocked on my father’s door to his chambers. “Come in.” He spoke firmly. I opened the door just slightly enough to see he was not alone. Inside was my father and his servant. I pushed open the door and stepped inside. The servant was indecent, but I kept my chin up and looked away from the naked man.
“You may go.” I spoke to the servant dismissively.
My father smirked, nodding for the man to leave. “The Queen will be furious. This entire ball is for you after all.”
“A warrior is not concerned with parties.” I tried to sound casual, but my voice shook.
“But you are not just a warrior. You will someday be Queen, and you should take it seriously.” My father sighed heavily. “Now what have you done?” My father looked me over, still in my training clothes, dirty and stinking of blood, and sweat.
I felt my cheeks redden and cast my eyes downward. “There’s a fire in the kitchen.” I confessed. I glanced up to see King Daniel scowl unimpressed, but not angry. My eyes flitted to my feet, away from his gaze.
“It will be handled.” He spoke. I glanced up at him again, surprised that he didn’t question me further. Before he turned away, he tilted his head and approached me. I stayed in my place, ready for him to strike me down and murder me at his feet. I deserved it, after what I had just done. “What else, child?”
“There is also a body…” I confessed my murder to him. It didn’t feel better to say out loud. It felt much worse.
Daniel raised a brow nodding. “Who?” His hands on his hips, raising his chin. He wasn’t angry?
“Miss Sophia.” I met his gaze, his lips pursed. “It was an accident, I swear.” I held my hands up to him. “She was looking at my bandages. I was holding them in fists to grow used to the pain. But she insisted I was making it worse.” I shook my head thinking it over. I don’t know how I did it.
“She touched my hands, and then they just killed her.” I killed her. Daniel furrowed his brow as a rambled. “I swear, I didn’t mean to do it.” My lip quivered, my heart racing, and I stopped speaking.
Then the King took notice of my outstretched arms, taking my wrists carefully in his grasp. He was extra cautious to not touch my palms, or fingertips. I narrowed my eyes, watching him do this. I didn’t want to hurt him.
“Take your bandage off.” He commanded and I obeyed.
I used my teeth to help undo the tie. It was awkward and tight. When the knot was free, I unwrapped them slowly, until the bloody mess of fabric was on the floor. Soft pink flesh was all that remained. No scars or wound decorated my skin at all.
“Father, how?” I gasped.
Daniel grinned, cupping my cheeks. “My darling, you have been blessed by Hades.”
“I have a gift?” I pulled my brows together staring at my hands. “Mother will be so happy!” She tormented me for years for not having a gift. She insisted I brought shame to our bloodline. I was a daughter of Persephone and Hades, and finally blessed with a gift from our ancestors.
“You will not speak of this to anyone, especially not to your mother, do you understand?” Daniel commanded, his voice low, and hard. I didn’t understand. My lips formed a straight line, but I nodded in answer. I did not dare question my father. “Now, everyone who saw us train today saw your hands. You must bear these scars.” Daniel brought over his spear. He held it tight in his grasp diagonal across his chest, menacing.
I gulped. My throat suddenly dry. I gave a curt nod, lifting my chin. Before my father could slice the blade down my palms, I reached out for the blade and did it myself.
I traced over the scars, two diagonal deep cuts that I would bare for the rest of my life, that no syphon would ever take away. I stared at the scars, as the salt air filled my nose, running my fingertips over the rigid flesh. The reminders that my gifts were an abomination. Something to hide and keep secret. A gift worthy of locking me away for. By Hades I would make my mother pay for it.
Aimlessly On Point 