Amalia at Good to Begin Well is hosting a Dream Sequence Blogfest on June 4. since i'm going to be madly packing for my trip to Glen Eyrie tomorrow, i'll post today.
Blackheart (my sequel to Eldala) has a lot of dream sequences. it's just part of the story and how it works. it was hard to pick one, especially one that didn't give too much away, but this was one of my favorites.
(after all the positive comments and suggestions, i should tell you that this is something the reader will know has happened in the past, and after it's over, Arathor does wake up.)
The sword tip dug into Arathor’s neck.
“Will you yield?”
How had he gotten himself into this position? Only his father could get the better of him in a sword fight. He tried to bring his sword up, but a booted foot held it to the ground. When he tried to move away, his opponent’s sword nicked him. A thin line of blood trickled down his neck. His eyes darted up to see his opponent giving him an odd smirk.
“I said, will you yield?”
He looked up at the dark eyes, the playful fringe of hair around her face, and gave Tiana his own smirk.
“To you, m’lady, I will always yield.”
He batted the sword away and pulled her down beside him. Before she could stop him, he pinned her underneath himself. They were both breathing hard, staring wide-eyed at each other. Her heart beat wildly against his chest and his heart was doing the same. He knew it wasn’t from exertion. He hadn’t been this close to her before and the temptation to have his way with her surprised him. He stood in one quick movement and helped her up.
“You’re improving,” he said.
She shook the leaves from her hair and off of her skirt. “I think you let me win.”
“Or maybe I was distracted.”
She gave him a quick kiss and started to run. With his longer legs, he easily caught up to her and swung her around by the waist. She tried to slip away from him, but he tightened his hold on her. She sucked in a breath. Was she afraid? He knew he was. His feelings for her were deepening, growing stronger, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He was the prince of Teleria and she was a Baraca girl of sixteen. It didn’t matter that they shared a mysterious heart connection. His father would never understand.
“Arathor, I love you.”
He almost blurted out the same words, but held himself in check. He didn’t know what the future held, and he had his obligations.
She looked up at him through her dark lashes and despite his reservations, he let himself give in to desire, taking the hungry kisses she freely offered. She pressed closer and he wrapped his arms around her, loving the way her softness pressed against him. He let his lips trail down her neck and onto her shoulder. She gave him a playful shove and started to run again.
He watched her go until she was over the closest rise, then went after her. When he came to the top of the ridge, he stopped, shocked to see her transform into a young girl. Before he could make sense of what was happening, a warrior on horseback bore down on her and scooped her up. The girl screamed and clawed at his eyes. He struck her across the face and she went limp in his arms.
Finally able to move, Arathor ran after them, yelling at the top of his lungs. The warrior spun his horse around to face him. Arathor drew his sword. The warrior’s gray eyes surveyed him as a cruel smile crossed his scarred face.
“You will lose everything.”