Recent content by Cecilia Fyg

My specialty. Where do I sign?

The young lady of Aleseberg stopped in the doorway for a moment, her eyes peering at the tub stood in front of the roaring fireplace. The water was just cloudy enough that the man was a vague shape in the hot water. For a moment she didn't move and stood framed in the inn doorway, blue-grey eyes...

Lia had planned to have a bath first. This man had a bloody cheek. She was about to retort when they reached the door. As she put the key into the lock and jiggered it around to open it she considered that he had, after all, plunged headlong into unknown danger to help her. Perhaps he did...

Lia was getting hungry, too, as she imagined what he was describing. A meat pie would be good. Or a slab of beef, cooked and spiced well, and some fresh bread. Her mouth was watering by now. Her stomach grumbled in agitation, too, which seemed off. Hadn't she eaten not long ago? Oh - right...

"Your younger brother always seemed a skinny little twig of a boy," Cecilia observed, her lips twitching up at the edges in a little smirk. "I find it difficult to imagine that he, rather than you - or god forbid your older brother - had more success with the ladies." They began ascending a...

Her hands swung loosely at her side through the conversation as they tramped along. "Sounds dreadful," she commiserated. Indeed, she couldn't say whether one fate was worse than another, for in the end both were put into the service of another. She stayed silent and listened to him, her eyes...

Lia watched him take off at a brisk pace and frowned before moving to follow him. It wasn't fast enough; she caught a face-full of a branch when he moved past it, leaving an angry red welt across her cheek. Good to know chivalry isn't dead, she thought to herself with a smirk and quickened her...

It was cold comfort to be reminded that the alternative to slaying two men - or having them slain on one's behalf - was being murdered or worse by them. Still, she supposed that the true choice had been theirs and not Cecilia's or Lorenzo's. She picked up the sword from the dead man's hand and...

"Why didn't I think of that?" she asked rhetorically at Renzo's suggestion that he would have availed himself of the window if he had been confronted with a marriage. She set about gathering her things, packing her bag, carefully and methodically, like a puzzle so that each piece fit in her bag...

She looked abashed but nodded as if she had just had a very simple question answered for her. "Of course - of course. D'Agosta, I remember now. As I say, it has not been the most straightforward of times." The bandit to their left made a gurgling noise and his head tilted to an unnatural angle...

Fair maiden. It wasn't the first time he had said that to her. As a widow, it wasn't exactly true that she was a maiden but she was gratified that she was still fair, despite the rough living she had encountered in the last several weeks. She hadn't seen a looking glass since her escape from...

By now, Lia thought that perhaps the fish had turned and what she was witnessing must be - had to be - some kind of fever dream brought on by the foodborne illness. Who was this man, all theatrics and sword-dancing? She straightened from her retching, pushing her long, straight hair behind her...

Lia didn't know what the plan was when everyone started moving. Well, she could easily determine that the bandits' plan was to kill this newcomer, the sword-brandishing dandy, then to kill Lia herself and proceed to loot their corpses and be on their merry way. If they were smart, they would...

Lia's head snapped to find a man emerging from the trees. He looked well-dressed and like he smelled a great deal better than any of these other thugs. Perhaps he was not there to rob and murder her, or worse. Hers was not the only attention that the man had captured. The three thugs turned in...

A snapping twig somewhere in the middle distance outside the makeshift lean-to Lia had created drew her attention from her journal. The fire, now in its embers and giving barely enough light to write, was not bright enough to see outside when she pushed open the flap and peered into the...