NaNoWriMo Update: Summaries

Don't ask how the editing itself is going right now...just don't.

I bring this up for one very good reason: I suck at describing my own work. I can ramble on for hours trying to tell you what it's about, and still manage to give you absolutely no pertinent information. I look back at my attempts to tell friends and family about what I'm writing about, and I still cringe. So consider this practice. In theory, a summary should give you an idea of the plot and let you know what to expect. It should tell you enough to reel you in, yet still not give anything away. It factors right behind the title in importance, since if you make it past the title, the next thing that needs to impress you is the description of the book. It's like a film trailer, but trickier. Movies have the advantage of showing you what they're all about. With books, it's all about the words. (Ironic, since I have a way with words, yet still can't get the summaries right.)

And so, my drafts for summaries of this year's exercise in insanity project! Let me know, 'kay?


Maid of Iron:

As a young woman, Anna Black is forbidden to work as a smith in her father's forge. Yet it's in defiance of the law that she does so to ensure her family's survival. As a lord's son, Constantine of Rosarian Manor should be preparing for the rite of passage that will secure his inheritance. Yet he can't seem to get the lovely Anna out of his mind.

Friendship between them is imprudent, love nearly impossible. The stakes are high, and the forfeit could mean everything. But when Anna is threatened along with the very love they dream of, their courage and devotion will be tested as they fight to win their happily ever after.

***

From the Ashes:
It's been two years. Two years since the disastrous premiere of Don Juan Triumphant. Two years since Christine Daae and the Vicomte de Chagny disappeared without a trace. Two years since the infamous Phantom of the Opera vanished, never to be seen again...

And yet Erik is still there, loath to abandon his safe haven in the catacombs and tormented by his memories. It's been two years, and he still can't forget the woman he lost forever.

For Vivienne, a former ballerina, it's been two years of hardship for her family. The fire that destroyed the Opera House turned their world upside down, forcing her into the street as a musician to earn what she can. After a vicious assault, she seeks shelter in the burnt-out ruins where she once danced, only to become the Phantom's captive.

Their lives have been marked by tragedy, but finding each other could be their chance to heal past wounds. If they can put aside their pain and learn to trust each other, it could be the start of something new for the both of them: hope, healing, happiness...and love.

***

The Phantom of the Chagnys:
Three years have passed, and Christine de Chagny is still haunted by the memories of her last night at the Opera Garnier. The man known as the Phantom has disappeared, but she knows Erik is still alive and shadowing her footsteps. She has known it since her return to Paris with her beloved Raoul and the discovery of the red rose outside her door. She wants only to forget the past and move on, but how can she when the very man she wants to forget won't let her?

And yet Erik is not the same man she left behind in the Opera three years ago. Heartbroken and driven once more into hiding, he has struggled to overcome his past and finally find peace but remains a hollow, damaged shell of the man she knew, unable to escape his pain and his sins.

Christine wants nothing more than to walk away before the power of his obsession takes control, but can't bring herself to abandon him again. As her struggle between love and duty, what is right and what is longed for, begins, she is forced to ask herself: Can the past ever be forgotten? Do people really change? Does everyone deserve a second chance? And will true love finally conquer all?

 ***

Huh, what does it say about me that I managed to say more about the two based off Phantom of the Opera than I did about my own little brainchild? Eh?

Your pal,
Angels
 

Reviews From an HBN (The Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins)

FINALLY! I got to read this book! There's so much I didn't get worked into a review, because this is really a book for conversation, not just...well, reviewing.

Could you survive on your own, in the wild, with everyone out to make sure you don't live to see the morning? In the ruins of a place once known as North America lies the nation of Panem, a shining Capitol surrounded by twelve outlying districts. The Capitol is harsh and cruel and keeps the districts in line by forcing them all to send one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen to participate in the annual Hunger Games, a fight to the death on live TV. Sixteen-year-old Katniss Everdeen, who lives alone with her mother and younger sister, regards it as a death sentence when she steps forward to take her sister’s place in the Games. But Katniss has been close to dead before—and survival, for her, is second nature. Without really meaning to, she becomes a contender. But if she is to win, she will have to start making choices that will weigh survival against humanity and life against love.

MY RATING: 5 STARS

My (inadequate) review from GoodReads: 

Let's see to the most important factoid first: I love Peeta. We'll return to that later, but now you know where I stand.

I place this in the same category as The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo as a book I'd heard praised from here to Jupiter but never really got curious enough to read until the hype got so huge a film adaptation was made (lazy, I know). I mean, it can't be that awesome, can it?

Turns out...it can. I loved Katniss Everdeen's voice as narrator and seeing the story directly through her eyes. Her attitude reminds me of Libba Bray's Gemma Doyle, with her dry humor and inability to get along with people when it's expected of her, when in fact, you'd think it meant the most for people to like her. But of the two, I like Katniss even better for her resourcefulness, her toughness, and her cunning. She also does a lot less feeling sorry for herself. She's made for action, not moping. She's very jaded by her circumstances for being so young, but you can still tell she's a rebellious teenager and still can't quite be beaten, no matter what you throw at her, as her actions in the arena prove.

And now for Peeta. I have major, major love for Peeta. He was just so nice, and funny, and lovable in a boy-next-door kind of way, and his attitude about the Games was so awesome, concerned not so much with death and dying, but with his wish to die as himself. So much more impressive than Gale's ranting about the Capitol! Gale...pssht, who gives two sh*** about Gale when you have Peeta Mellark? And this was my beef with Katniss. Open your eyes, girl! He's not pretending! And you know you feel the same way, so quit acting like such a bimbo!

I have to hand it to Suzanne Collins, she got me good. I wondered how she was going to pull off the ending it seemed she had to pull off without completely ruining it, and I thought she was going for a cheap cop-out at first, but she fooled me. She's also got me hooked, and now I'm glad I waited so long to read this series, as it means I don't have to wait for the other books to come out. The other movies, however...


Your humble book nerd,
Angels

NaNoWriMo Update: Titles

Naturally, a good title is mega important. Thinking of a good title gives me almost as much aggravation as writing the story itself, and that's no exaggeration. A good one will reel in the readers; a bad one gets a book set aside faster than David Garrett plays "Flight of the Bumblebee." And now, I give you...the titles of my projects this month!

Maid of Iron - This one is the prologue I posted a few days ago! The working title was "The Blacksmith's Daughter," which was direct and used enough times in the narrative to give it resonance, but how many other titles are out there with "fill-in-the-blank's daughter," exactly? Too many! I can think of three off the top of my head--four! Five! All right, you get the point. The one I settled on had some catchy wordplay and a nice, solid feel to it, which is of course what you ought to aim for.

From the Ashes - Depending on whether or not you cyber-stalk me on other sites, this sounds familiar, but hear me out. Its working title was "Broken Pieces," another boring, generic name. I'm staring at a book with the exact same title on the shelf next to me right now. I used a recurring theme of fire throughout this one, so it only made sense for the title to reflect that...it requires some scrambling elsewhere to avoid confusion, but that can't be helped.

The Phantom of the Chagnys - (What? Susan Kay could publish hers, and--God help us--Frederick Forsyth could publish his, why not me?) This one still has the same title it's always had, and for one good reason: it tells you exactly what it's about. It connects you with the story I based it off of immediately. And it covers all the bases, pretty much...

Here's a helpful little article I found on how important a title is to a book:

Go into a bookstore and browse through the titles in the bestseller section. Book publishing companies hire high-priced people to come up with a title or "headline," because book publishing is a big business; therefore a lot of contemplation goes into making their titles as commercially-viable as possible. Many well-known and highly successful books started out with other titles. According to Dan Poynter, the father of self-publishing:

� Tomorrow is Another Day became Gone With The Wind.
� Blossom and the Flower became Peyton Place.
� The Rainbow Book became Free Stuff For Kids.
� The Squash Book became the Zucchini Book.
� John Thomas and Lady Jane became Lady Chatterly's Lover.
� Trimalchio in West Egg became Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby.

� Something that Happened became Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men.
� Catch 18 became Catch 22

While you are at the store, notice how the other browsers pick up a book, scan the front and back cover, and then put it down again before going on to another book. The whole process takes about two seconds each. That's all of the time you have to make an impression on a potential reader. In those two seconds, you must appeal literally to three of the five senses that human beings have, sight, speech, and hearing, and figuratively to the last two, touch and smell.

1) Sight: When someone first comes in contact with your book's title, it is usually by seeing it on the front cover. So your title must be aesthetically appealing.


2) Speech: If a person stumbles over the words, it will add to the difficult in marketing your book. Even if you are writing only for family members and friends, and you are giving away your book for free, there is still an element of marketing.

3) Sound: Business philosopher Jim Rhone says in order to have effective communication, you must "Have something good to say, say it well and say it often." Your title will be heard often, but will it be good and will it be said well?

4) Touch: Touch also means to "relate to" or "to have an influence on." Figuratively, your title must allow itself to touch or be touched by being able to relate to your readers or have some type of influence on them.

5) Smell: Your title should figuratively give off an aroma. In other words it should project "a distinctive quality or atmosphere." If the aroma the title gives off suggests that very little thought or concern was given to it, people will assume that the rest of the book is the same way.

On a recent Publisher's Weekly Bestseller list, out of 20 books, one had a one-word title; five had two-word titles; four had three-word titles; five had four-word titles; three had five-word titles; one had a seven-word title and one had an eight-word title. The point is, most honchos at major publishing companies believe that the simpler/shorter the title, the better. None of the titles were complex.

Some useful stuff there, but I like to keep it simple. What I usually keep in mind for titles is imagery, impact, and individuality (call 'em the three I's if you want). They need to set a scene, hit hard enough to be memorable, and stand out.

Now tell me, have I succeeded?

Your pal,
Angels

Reviews From an HBN (The Other Boleyn Girl - Philippa Gregory)

Taking another break from editing (holy crap, I'm falling behind!)

Two sisters competing for the greatest prize: the love of a king.

A rich and compelling novel of love, sex, ambition, and intrigue, The Other Boleyn Girl introduces a woman of extraordinary determination and desire who lived at the heart of the most exciting and glamorous court in Europe and survived by following her heart.

When Mary Boleyn comes to court as an innocent girl of fourteen, she catches the eye of Henry VIII. Dazzled, Mary falls in love with both her golden prince and her growing role as unofficial queen. However, she soon realizes just how much she is a pawn in her family''s ambitious plots as the king''s interest begins to wane and she is forced to step aside for her best friend and rival: her sister, Anne. Then Mary knows that she must defy her family and her king and take her fate into her own hands.

MY RATING: 5 STARS

You know the drill, review from GoodReads and all that jazz.

It took me three days to read this, and then another three days to collect my thoughts for a review. And trust me, collecting my thoughts was no easy task. You ask why? Because this one put me through the wringer, no two ways about it.

In summary, I loved Mary and Queen Katherine, was in love with William Stafford, liked George, went all over the radar with Henry, and utterly despised Anne--or, as I took to calling her, "that b**** Anne." The movie played up sisterly love only impeded by rivalry, but reading this I got the sense that there was no love lost between Annamaria and Marianne. None whatsoever. There was more respect and affection between Mary and the queen, with the drawback to that relationship being Mary's reluctant loyalty and obedience to her family, which tended to cause a bit of unpleasantness. Well, that and the fact that Mary was Henry's mistress before she was put aside for Anne, who succeeded in pushing Katherine off the throne and unintentionally paved the way for her own downfall. This thing is full of backstabbing, double-crossing, and treachery, but what do you expect? It's the Tudor court, children!

I'll probably regret reading what's known as Philippa Gregory's best book before I got to the others, but I'm not concerned about that at the moment. I was certainly impressed with the way she combined vice and luxury, opulence and decadence, to make ambition and deception seem very glamorous indeed. This is what made the court of Henry VIII so fascinating! The intrigue! The debauchery! The constant threat of treason clashing with the unending flirtation! Granted, since this is a novel as opposed to a biography, liberties are taken with some of the facts, but it's not far from the truth to say you could rise to power in the blink of an eye, then fall from grace just as quickly; just pray you didn't land on the scaffold, because Henry sure did like beheading people who disagreed with him.

I knew how this was going to end, being a Tudor enthusiast since I was eight years old, but I spent all six-hundred some pages on tenterhooks wondering who in the world was going to screw up next. Not to mention all the times my heart broke, I lost my temper, or was just plain dumbfounded. It was an exhausting read, but I couldn't put it down! I was always fascinated by Anne Boleyn the most out of Henry's wives, as she seemed like a cold, dangerous woman, to be so ambitious and so hell-bent she turned the kingdom and half of Europe upside down to gain the throne of England. I liked Ms. Gregory's angle of it being a twisted form of vengeance for being separated from her girlhood love, as it gave her a motive beyond plain calculation and cunning. It gave her a heart, one so corrupted by the loss it drove her to madness. But still, I felt no pity and no sympathy for her, this harsh, ruthless, and at times evil woman.

Now, Mary, on the other hand...I felt for her. There were times when I wanted to slap her for going along with her dysfunctional and just plain warped family's plans and times when I wanted to strike them all dead for using her as they did, as a piece on a game board and less than human. I moved between annoyance with her for being so subservient as to put their plots before her own conscience, but I was ready to champion her when she was mistreated and cheering her on when she finally got the courage to stand up for herself. And I mentioned Katherine above...pure admiration. I wonder what it really must have been like, to have to smile and look the other way while her husband was philandering in front of the whole court and know that sooner or later, her marriage would come to an end, even if it was still binding. I'm almost glad for her that Henry was arrogant enough to declare it invalid. As humiliating as it must have been, I know I would have been relieved it was all over.

There was some excellent writing here, and I feel no guilt in flinging some of my favorite quotes at you:

"Why should Anne be the one who says how things are done?" I demanded. "Why d'you always listen to Anne?"

..."Because she's got a head on her shoulders and she knows her own value...whereas you have behaved like a fourteen year old girl in love for the first time."

"But I am a girl of fourteen in love for the first time!" I exclaimed.

"Exactly," he said unforgivingly. "That's why we listen to Anne."

***

"Something is lost for you. Your innocence, your first love, your trust. Perhaps your heart is broken. Perhaps it will never mend. Poor silly Marianne...to do one man's bidding to please another man and get nothing for yourself but heartbreak."

***

It felt as though we were fighting something worse than Anne, some demon that possessed her, that possessed all of us Boleyns: ambition--the devil that had brought us to this little room and brought my sister to this insane distress, and us to this savage battle.

***

Her bleak view of the world made me pause. But then I thought of my own children. "After your baby is born, and you are well--then I go to Hever," I stipulated.

"After the baby is born you can go to hell if you like."



Returning to the review...and wrapping it up as fast as possible. I liked this one. Historically skewed? Why, yes. Good enough I'd read it again? I think five stars speak for themselves.


Your humble book nerd,
Angels 

NaNoWriMo Update: Theme Songs

Yes, you read that correctly. Remember what I said about music and writing? That's all this is, really. When I get an idea of where I want to go with a piece and what kind of story it will be, a song usually comes to me...it's kinda weird and kinda cool, but they always seem perfect somehow. That particular song guides me through the story as I write, whether it's through the message, the emotion, or the atmosphere. And this month, I'm working with three of them! Curious? Here they are!

Love Story - Taylor Swift

Broken - Seether featuring Amy Lee

To Make You Feel My Love - Garth Brooks

Don't fret, darlings, I'll be back soon!

Your pal,
Angels

More Phan Art

I'd decided November was going to be dedicated to NaNoWriMo and everything else was going to be put on hold...even Phantom Friday...but I couldn't resist.

When Christine Dies by DarthxErik

I laughed so hard when I first saw that, I spit coffee all over the computer!

Your pal,
Angels

NaNoWriMo Update: Progress!

Woo hoo! I'm off to a slow start, but it's still a start! To celebrate (and because I felt like it), I'm sharing with all *counts* well, it seems my dashboard says there's nine of you, but I can only see six...well, I'm sharing this with you, anyway. Behold! The prologue of one-third of my first NaNo assignment ever! Be sure to tell me what you think!

***
         
         One of Anna’s favorite childhood memories was that of listening to her mother stories in front of the fire with the sound of her father’s forge in the background. They were the same stories that all mothers tell their children, but to Anna, the fair damsels, brave knights, evil villains, and fierce dragons were strange and unfamiliar when spoken of by anyone but Mavourneen Black. It didn’t matter that the stories were a little different every time due to Mavourneen’s imaginative embellishments, because it was the odd details she loved best.

Anna’s favorite story was the one Mavourneen told her nearly every day, the one about the handsome prince that fell in love with the lowly but beautiful beggar girl. She knew it from beginning to end, upside down and inside out, but she always had to hear it just one more time. At least, she had to hear it one more time until the day it was spoiled for her.

She was eight years old that fall morning, sitting as usual with Mavourneen in front of the fire. Papa had been in the forge for several hours already. Alban Black’s reputation as the most skilled smith in Lelian meant a steady income for the family, and long hours spent sweating over the fires for Alban, shaping this tool for that farmer, some horseshoes on occasion, or a sword for an up-and-coming knight when they were lucky.

“One day, the prince was riding through the streets when he saw her standing there on the corner,” Mavourneen recited in her story voice. There was no one in the world with a story voice like Mavourneen’s, as rich and warm as the spiced cider that was sold in the tavern a few streets away. “She was wearing the same old, gray dress she’d been wearing for weeks and her face was dirty, but she was still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.”

This was Anna’s favorite part. She squirmed in delight but stayed still enough for Mavourneen to finish braiding her hair. “Was she on the corner to beg, Mother?” she asked.

“Why, no, Anna,” Mavourneen replied. “Some kind person had given her a basket of flowers, and she was selling the blossoms for copper coins.” She knew how Anna loved this version, and she herself loved telling it. “The prince rode over, nodded to her, and asked, ‘How much for the whole basket, fair maiden? I ride to a woman in the city who has my heart, and I mean to make these flowers a present for her.’”

“What did she do?” Anna asked, already knowing the answer.

“She was moved by the prince’s words,” Mavourneen continued, “and wondered what exceptional maid had won the heart of this handsome prince. She counted the flowers and named her price. The prince took the basket from her then got down off his horse, knelt before her, and said, ‘Take your flowers, my lady, and come with me to my castle. I love you with all that is in me. Marry me, and—“

“’Live with me forever.’ Always a different story, but always the same speech.” Bran, Anna’s twelve-year-old brother, came in from the yard behind the house with a pail of water drawn from the well outside. It wasn’t typical for families in the neighborhood to have private wells, but as a smith, Alban was afforded the privilege.

“There are limits to even my storytelling abilities, young man,” Mavourneen told him, then she smiled and finished her story. “The beggar girl was so happy she could do nothing but say yes. The prince rode off with her to the castle, they married within a month, and lived happily ever after.”

She tied a ribbon at the end of Anna’s braid and kissed her on the cheek. “Come on, pet,” she said. “Help me get some breakfast on the table.”

Anna scampered off into the kitchen while Mavourneen slowly got to her feet, one hand on her swollen stomach. She was supposed to give birth to Anna and Bran’s new brother or sister any day now, but in the meantime it was taking her quite some time to get around the house.

She followed her children into the corner of their house they’d set aside for cooking and eating. With their help, she set the table and laid out the rest of yesterday’s bread, some fruit, and a pitcher of the water Bran had drawn. She then sent Anna into the forge to fetch Alban.

Anna usually kept away from the forge with its heavy tools, scorching fires, and loud noises, but she didn’t mind it so much in winter when it was cold outside. It was still a fairly warm autumn, though, so the air inside Alban’s workshop felt thick and heavy. She wended her way through the dark shapes until she came to Alban’s side at the anvil as he hammered away at the blade of a scythe.

“Papa?” she said. “Mother says it’s time for breakfast.”

Alban set down his hammer and replied, “Well, it’s right about time, my girl; I’m hungry as a bear.”

He scooped her up, tossed her onto his shoulder like a sack of grain, and carried her back through the forge amidst her giddy laughter. They were almost to the side door leading to the house when it burst open and Bran rushed through it.

“Father!” he exclaimed. “Mother says the baby’s coming!”

Alban set Anna back on her feet. “Go send for Mother Nell,” he ordered. “Anna, child, you go play outside.”

Anna never needed to be told twice to go play. She ran off in search of Rafe while Bran went to find the wisewoman to act as midwife.

Rafael Cooper was a tawny-haired, freckle-faced eight-year-old boy who lived three houses away. He was known as a bright, charming, good-natured, and decidedly devious little boy, always with an ear-to-ear grin and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

She found him outside his father’s workshop munching cheerfully on an apple. He saw her coming, reached into a pocket, and tossed her one, too.

“Thanks,” she said, buffing it on her sleeve before taking a big bite, letting the juice run down her chin before wiping it with the back of her hand. “Bran went to get Mother Nell. Mother’s having the baby now.”

“Do you want a sister or a brother?” Rafe asked.

They’d talked about this for months now, and Anna had loved to change her mind throughout, giving a different answer every time for different reasons. Rafe himself was the youngest of seven children, and after four other sons and two daughters, the Coopers had decided to spoil their last little angel.

“I want a sister, you ninny,” Anna told him. “I want to tell her the story of the beggar girl and the prince.”

“How about the one about the princess trying to escape the ogre that’s going to eat her?” Rafe suggested, throwing the apple core into the street.

Anna smiled and threw her core after his. This was one of their favorite games. It was tag in its essence, with Anna in the role of the princess in grave danger of being roasted and eaten by the bloodthirsty ogre—Rafe. They ran through the city streets, screaming and shouting, tripping people up, and occasionally colliding with some obstacle that seemed to come out of nowhere. They’d been at it for hours when Anna froze in the middle of the street and allowed Rafe to run into her headlong. “Bran!” she cried.

There was her brother heading towards them, wearing the amused expression of an older sibling about to poke fun at the young fry.

“Has Mother had the baby yet?” Anna asked.

“Not yet,” Bran told her. “Father told me to come keep an eye on you. What are you playing? Prince and beggar girl? Dragon and witch?”

“No,” Rafe replied, shaking his head so emphatically it shook his hair out of place and back again. “It’s princess and ogre.”

“And who is the ogre?” Bran inquired. “I’ll wager it’s this one.” He pointed to Anna.

“That’s not funny!” she declared.

“It’s not,” Rafe added. “If she’s the ogre, then that means I’m the princess!”

Anna forgot her indignation in order to tease her friend. “But you’d make such a pretty princess, Rafael.”

Rafe bristled. “And you’d make such an ugly ogre, but that’s the point, isn’t it, Penelope?”

Since Anna liked her middle name as much as Rafe liked his proper name, they both responded to such insults with an undignified tackle, rolling around in the dust with each trying to pin the other until Bran separated them. “Now, that’s not very princess-like, is it, Anna?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Being accused of unprincess-like behavior only annoyed Anna even more, so she changed tack again. “I’m not a princess, Bran,” she said. “I’m a beggar girl.”

“Then that makes Rafe the prince,” Bran told her.

Rafe made a face. “The prince and the beggar girl got married,” he groused. “I’d rather be an ogre.”

“And I hate to tell you this, Anna,” Bran continued, “but the prince only marries the beggar girl in the stories. In real life, he wouldn’t even buy flowers from her.”

“Yes he would,” she insisted. “He’d marry her, too. Now come on, Rafe, we don’t have to get married. I’ll be the beggar girl, and you’ll be the prince for once.”

“I’ll be the prince,” Bran offered.

“You’re not handsome enough,” she sniffed.

“I’ll be the prince, if no one minds.”

The three of them looked up at the newcomer. They’d never seen him before; he wasn’t even dressed the same way most were in this part of the city. But he was handsome enough.

“All right,” Anna said. “Do you know the story?”

“You mean the prince and the beggar girl?” the boy asked. “Of course.”

“And Rafe can be the dragon, and Bran can be the evil wizard,” Anna added.

“There’s no dragon or wizard in that story,” the boy pointed out.

“There is in one of my mother’s versions,” she told him, settling the issue.

So the beggar girl, prince, dragon, and evil wizard embarked on a perilous quest that took them to nearly every corner of Lelian. The game went on all afternoon, and it would have ended perfectly if it hadn’t taken them to the wealthier part of the city. 

When the prince was about to take the beggar girl away to his castle, a group of boys burst into the street from an alley between buildings. They were pretending to duel with long sticks, but stopped when they saw the band of adventurers.

“Constantine,” one called, “so you’ve decided to have fun with riffraff instead of us?”

The other boys started laughing, but Anna didn’t see what was so funny.

“Is that your new girl?” the first boy asked, pointing at her with his sword-stick. “Is she going to be your princess? Were you going to marry her?”

“No,” the boy named Constantine snapped defensively.

“I’ll bet you were,” the other boy taunted. “You were going to rule over all the peasants of the land with a beggar queen.”

Now Anna felt the sting of the boy’s words. So did Bran and Rafe, and they both wore sour expressions. None of them were beggars, but the new boys were evidently born into privileged families and didn’t make the distinction. Constantine was insulted as well, but for a different reason. He was a proud boy who simply despised being teased. “You keep quiet, Aglovale,” he cried, “or I’ll hit you so hard—“

Aglovale laughed and swung his stick. “Do your worst.”

With that, the boys disappeared.

Anna turned to Constantine and said, “Don’t let them bother you, they’re just bullies.”

Constantine, however, had suffered too severe a blow. He stormed off in a different direction, brushing between them all and pushing Anna so hard she fell sideways into a puddle of mud and muck.

“Hey!” Bran shouted. “You leave my sister alone, you hear me? Next time I see you, I’ll give you a beating you’ll remember when you’re an old man!”

It didn’t matter that they would probably never see Constantine again; Anna felt slightly better that her brother had taken up for her, but it couldn’t entirely banish the hurt of being so roughly shoved and the shame of being so filthy.

Rafe held out his hand and helped her to her feet. She wiped the mud from her face and tried not to cry as Bran put his arm around her shoulders and led her back home. “I’m sorry, Anna,” he said, “but that’s what really happens. The prince pushes the beggar girl into the mud.”

Anna held back her tears until they reached the other side of the city. She held them until she couldn’t hold them anymore, and when she finally started crying, they ran down her face leaving clean patches on her cheeks.

***

There it is! Off to a good start, you think? Gotta get back to work now!

Your pal,
Angels