The end of Osy
Published on Nov 08 2009 | Filed under: Embraced by Darkness
Well, I got through it. Not with the ambition and excitement and startling hope I had at the end of Jezaline. But I’m satisfied. Osondrous and Constace’s stories ended smoothly enough to make me happy. That was something I was really worried about. If you read my last post you know that I was really apprehensive with just ten pages left that I felt like I had rushed some of it. But I re-worked it. Added a little and I think it smoothed out pretty well.
Osondrous’ story is the guts of my book. She was truly my start and it was her actions that started the chain reaction that affected the entire story and all of my other characters. So I am more apprehensive and a lot more concerned about getting this just right. I don’t know if I did that. But I know I did the best I could. But I am filled with doubt that maybe my best is just not good enough.
I’ve connected Jezaline’s story now more than ever with Osondrous and Constance’s part of the book. I hope that this will make my book easier to understand. I did get the un-worked book read by friends and the biggest complaint was just confusion. Like, “What the hell is going on?” and I’m crossing my fingers that these more obvious connections that I’ve added now will clear everything up.
When I finished Jezaline’s portion of the book I was raring to go and read through it and line edited it right away. I’m exhausted with Osondrous’ portion and I don’t know if I will do it. Though I feel I should. I feel obligated. I’m going to think about it.
Osondrous started at around 92,000 words and at this moment it is at 74,816. I was hoping to cut at least twenty thousand but I don’t know if there is more that I can cut. When I go through it again, I am certainly going to try to cut more.
This is the last words of Osondrous’ portion. I hope you appreciate it and like it. I ended her as softly as I could.
EXCERPT FROM EMBRACED BY DARKNESS: OSONDROUS’ STORY
Copyright Tarah L. Wolff All Rights Reserved.
She hugged herself against the breeze, acknowledged no one. She got to her chamber and collapsed down before the fire. She held her shaking hands, stared at the little note again. Karalay’s sure and true hand writing. Had Karalay known what lay before her when she wrote it? Did Karalay know she would become queen with so little consideration?
“Forgive me.” Osondrous whispered, “Karalay, forgive me.”
Osondrous held the note to her chest, closed her eyes. She swore she would make it up to Karalay. To everyone. She threw the parchment into the fire and watched it burn. Shook her head, got herself up to her knees. She drew Mlore from her hip, laid the sword down in its place before the fire. Bowed to it.
Osondrous laid down on the stone floor, felt her aching muscles give to the feeling. She stretched her arms above her head, took off her shirt, her vest. Her clothes down to the wraps around her breasts, her many bandages. Wanted to rip them off, let her body be free to breathe. Her foot ached horrifically, removing her boots was agony. She laid, stared into the fire. Disappointed she could not feel the stone on every bare part of her. Disappointed she could not feel health. Disappointed she could not feel confidence. Scared that Karalay would return, knowing how she had failed.
Eikian stepped into the chamber. Curled his hooves beneath him before the fire, laid his sword down beside Mlore.
She rose to her knees beside him, hands on her thighs.
“I doomed Karalay the day I became queen. I doomed Diggamara.” Eikian stared at their touching swords.
“I gave Grim his chance to take the last crystal.” Osondrous never looked at him.
“Why did you let Tarick go?” Eikian did not look at her.
“He gave up his life to be with her, his gift, to die and go to her. And he did not die. Against all odds, he did not die. He asked me to let him go so he could try and save her.”
The fire burned quietly. Osondrous stared into it, her eyes filled.
“When you find someone who loves you, there is no greater gift and nothing more worth giving up everything for.”
Eikian kept his eyes down.
She looked at him. “Eikian?”
He faced her. She rose to her knees, slipped against his hard body. Him on his belly and her on her knees they were at eye level. She pressed her face against the skin beneath his ear, in his hot neck. Her tongue slipped along his collar bone, she kissed him with her mouth open.
She said, “I will be given no greater gift than you.”
He shushed her with his mouth, with his enormous strength. And she embraced, for the first time, her life truly without Telenay. Her life without the field that was who she had thought she was. In his arms, in that moment, she was a failed queen. A failure as she had never been a failure.
But Eikian held her, kissed her, moved his fingers down her body like she was not a failure but as though she were perfect. Pretty. Beautiful. A woman as she had never been a woman. He touched her as only a warlord could. Without fear or reservation. With respect but not reverence. As equals.
And she met him entirely for the first time. Laying away all of her reservations that had always stopped her. He unwrapped her breasts and cupped her taught skin. Wrapped his lips around her pink nipples.
“Be mine entirely.” His hot breath sent a scatter of bumps down her pricked skin.
“Yes.” She said.
In the darkness the fire cast their silhouettes as a single shadow. An embrace of pure darkness. Death bringer meeting death bringer. They gave in to the inevitably of their lives together.