I’ve been reworking my novel DayFall as a more adult novel. Here is a little taste of what I’ve come up with as I recreate Lycia’s world Eldorra.
Lycia was the smallest girl of marriageable age in the village, but she was striking to behold. Her hair, which hung to the center of her slender back, was the color of stardust, her skin, pale and smooth but it was her face, that strikingly angelic face that drew the most praise. Her nose was small, slightly upturned, , and her mouth a blush colored Cupid’s bow and her eyes… her eyes were magic. They were large, much too large for her delicate, almost elfin features and the color, the color was by far the most beautiful ever seen in their part of the world. Her eyes were a deep piercing amethyst that sparkled with silver flecks when the moonlight hit them at the right angle. She was an oddity in a family of odd.
Lucian, her father, also had the pale silver white hair and delicate features but he was a tall willowy man, soft spoken and pretty. Much too pretty for a man, but when he smiled and laughed he lit up a room. His beauty, like Lycia’s was startling. When they walked across the village square, he was greeted eagerly, smiles and laughter following him as they went. He was a sought after tailor, his stitch work the most delicate that had ever been seen in the tiny village. When his wife had been taken, there had been many a woman batting her eyes at the beautiful Lucian Monglave and he, being the man he was, was cordial. But he would never take another, not after losing his one true love. Yet, he was welcomed in any home.
Lycia, on the other hand, was not as welcome. Sure, the villagers put up with her, they were cordial, but no one wanted to be alone with the strange girl. Not only were her eyes startling to behold, they were off putting. When she looked at you, it felt as if those eyes could see into your very soul. She was smarter than most, and a vicious fighter, training herself to defend her father and younger sibling when her mother had been taken. She was secretive and moved in the tunnels beneath the village like a wraith avoiding crowds or simple conversation at all cost. Because when she spoke, her voice washed over you like warm silk and all who spoke to her were entranced, lulled into an almost hypnotic state by her sweet lilting voice.
“I don’t understand it,” Many a villager had lamented in the tavern over cups of warm ale. “Lucian is such a gentle soul, such a lively sort, but that girl of his such a strange little thing.”
“I think she may be one of the wee folk.” Some had said “An evil little faery.”
“But lor, isn’t she beautiful to look at.” They’d all agreed.
Casimir had watched her, from his perch high atop the village wall. Cloaked in a dark duster, a hood covering his sun scarred features, he’d watched her with his teeth bared. Tiny she was, and at least a decade his junior she had captured his heart and he would have the little faery girl as his own. He knew that the other girls thought him frightening, they had looked at him in disdain since his accident in child hood, but not Lycia. When she looked at him, she saw past the scars to the man underneath. Tomorrow, she would be eligible to take a husband, it being her sixteenth year and Casimir, who had never dared requested the hand of another was going to ask for hers.
As if she could feel him, she turned then, her eyes staring into the darkness of the starless sky. She tilted her head and stared into the shadows and he felt his heart jump. Even though he knew it was not possible, he felt as if she were looking right at him. There was no way she could see him, hidden in the dark shadows, there was no way.
Then she smiled and he knew, he knew that she had.