Crescendo Sneak Peek #4

Good morning, folks! Hope you all had a lovely weekend. Mine was spent mostly in the world of Crescendo, and I'm happy to report that for the first time, I can look into the not-too-distant future and see the end of this story. If I had to guess, I'd say I've got ten to fifteen thousand words left to write. I may actually get it done by the end of the month :-D

Since I'm still very much in head-down / ass-in-chair mode trying to finish this novel, I don't have too much spare time, so I thought I'd share with you all a short excerpt from a bit of Crescendo I wrote today. That's beneath the jump. But first, one quick bit of news:

I'm all giddy about having finally figured out how to send a newsletter! So, my first-ever newsletter went out on Friday night. If you'd like to get in on the fun, you can read it here (the link is at the bottom of the page), and subscribe to future ones if you'd like. There was a big fat exclusive excerpt from Break and Enter in there, and I gave away an autographed copy of Counterpoint to one lucky subscriber. I'll have an exclusive excerpt and a giveaway in the next newsletter too, so don't miss your chance to win!

And now today's Crescendo excerpt, beneath the jump. Also, a random hottie (SFW) for the heck of it. Because you can never have too many random hotties.

They overnighted in a hall of magisters on the edge of a large town. There were two jail cells here, both solid stone, both empty. The elves escorted Freyrík into one of them and cut his bindings. He sank gratefully onto a bed and shook his wrists, chafed and sore to the touch after so many days spent tied. He heard the heavy stone door close, heard a bolt lock. Despite the dungeon-like surroundings, ‘twas still a nice cell. Little windows of iron and glass let in the last dying rays of sunlight. A lantern hung from the ceiling, and in one corner was a covered privy seat that smelled more of cedar than waste. The bunk beds were piled high with blankets, and on a shelf bolted to the wall near the door sat a pitcher of fresh water and a cup.

He went to pour himself some, and heard through the wall the cell door beside him clank shut. Then a voice, muffled and distant: “Rik?”

He nearly dropped the cup in his haste to press his ear to the wall between the cells. “Ayden?” Gods, they’d not been permitted to speak to each other for days. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Yes. They have treated me far better than I’d expected.”

“Fallen gods pray it lasts.”

Indeed, he had prayed so every night to his own gods. “How do you come to be indoors tonight? Is the starfall gone?”

“Nay. But the others cannot hear it through the stone.” He thought he heard Ayden laugh. “I never thought I’d be so glad of a prison cell. It is good to be warm.”

“Indeed.” Freyrík grinned, laid his forehead and palm flat against the stone between them. He imagined Ayden doing the same on the other side. Wished he could touch him, even just for a moment. Soon, gods pray. Soon.