Laurell has a myspace that her assistant Darla set up and so I asked her some questions and I got a message from them today and I'm putting it up here so I can come back to it in case Myspace deletes it.

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Hi! Sorry, not Laurell. She is technophobic. But I will pass your letter on to her.

I am going to include Laurell’s advice for beginning writers and some links that may help. Good luck and do let us know when your first novel is published. Good new should always be shared.

Don't let it get to you. Editing yourself is the hardest part and it just takes practice. One of the best books, according to Laurell, with written descriptions that she used to learn from was Charolette's Web. Try reading it again, you probably did as a kid, and pay special attention to the descriptions. It will help.

Advice For Beginning Writers.


A lot of you have been asking how do you become a writer? I can only tell you what's worked for me, and there are writers out there that do it vastly differently from my methods, but I can't explain how they work, only how I work, so here goes.

First a writer writes. I've lost track of the number of people who want to be writers but never actually write anything. Talking about writing, dreaming about writing, can be very fun, but it won't get a book written. You've got to write. Either set aside a certain time of the day, or night, for writing, so that when the o'clock rolls around you feel almost compelled to sit down and write something; or have a page quotient. Because if you finish your pages early you get to get up and do something else. Of course, the reverse is true, if you don't get your pages accomplished you can be sitting at your desk a very long time. When I first stared writing I did two pages a day five or six days a week. Why two pages? Because on my worst day I could do two pages before I had to get to work in corporate America. I was working a full time job when I stared my first book, so I know it's hard to fit it in, but not impossible. Some people prefer to work at night, but for me after a full day's work I could barely think let alone be creative, I had to work first thing in the morning or I wouldn't have written anything. By the way, I am not a morning person. I got up, stumbled out of bed and sat at the computer until I had those two pages, then I got up, got dressed and went to play executive.

Of course, now that I'm working on book number twenty-three instead of book number one, I do more than two pages a day. It was four pages for a few years, and now it's eight as my min. That's actually quite a lot in a day’s time for most people. I'm' blessed that I'm prolific. Find what pages work for you and stick to them, don't keep adding pages on, this isn't weight lifting. I know it's tempting to think well I did two pages today, maybe I can do three tomorrow. What happens is you burn yourself out, and will end up staring at the blank computer screen, because you've run ahead of yourself and exhausted the subconscious reservoir where a lot of the writing gets done before you even sit down to pull words out of thin air. So easy does it. Find your pace and stick to it.

The exception to this is the short story. Sometimes the muse does strike and inspiration pours an entire short story from you finger tips with the ease of water from a cleft rock. When that happens buckle up and hold on for the ride. Be very, very grateful to the powers that be, but don't count on it being a regular occurrence. Inspiration is like lust, it feels great, but you can't count on it to see you through the finish line. Writing a book is more like true love, it takes work and effort even on days that you don't want to see the damn book again. We all have days when we'd rather do anything but face the blank page. Having said that, I love to write, but even those of us who are natural writers are entitled to a bad day now and then.

Here's the secret to finishing that first book. Don't rewrite as you go. Let me repeat that one. Don't rewrite as you go along. I know one writer who has three wonderful first chapters of a book. They are wonderful, and they should be. He's been rewriting them for about nine years now. He wanted the beginning to be perfect before he moves on. He's never going to finish the book, because perfectionism is an unattainable goal It isn't going to be perfect. Just get words down on paper and when you stumble to what you think is the end of the book, you will have hundreds of pages of words that came out of your head. It may not be perfect, but it looks like a book, or rather a book manuscript.

I wrote my first six books this way, no rewriting until the first draft was finished. I still think that if I'd tried to edit as I go, I'd have never finished any of them, but now as I work on book number twenty-three I do some rewriting, or polishing as I go along. But I still have to watch myself or I get so busy polishing or worrying about things that I stop making progress. If I've spent three days on the same chapter without moving on, then I stop screwing with it and write something, anything to get me over the hump. You can always fix it later once it's written down. If it never gets written you cannot fix it at all.

I hear the wails now, what about research, what about plotting. Well, for research if you're writing along and suddenly you need your character to undress and you don't know what the hell fourteenth century underwear looks like, do not go to the library or the Internet and start researching it. Instead put in big CAP LETTERS what does fourteenth century underwear look like anyway. Leave some blank space around the note and keep writing. My first drafts are full of notes like this. The second is just going back through and filling in those blank spaces. It's the third draft that really begins to be edited.

I always write my first draft before I do detailed research. Because until I get to the end I don't really know what questions I need to ask. Example when I wrote book seven of Anita: BURNT OFFERINGS, I knew I wanted it to be about arson. If I'd done my research first I'd have asked a friendly local fireperson, "Tell me about arson." This is a big question, and it shows that I've done no research. I wanted, in effect, for someone else to do my research for me. I value my experts. I value their time, as I value my own. So I didn't actually talk to anyone until I knew that what I really needed to know about arson was how can arson be done so that you know from the beginning its not done by human hands. That was a very specific question and nobody minded talking to me about it, because it was clear I knew what I needed to know, and I wasn't just wandering around in the dark.

Also your experts appreciate it if you know some of the special lingo without them having to explain every word. So do some preliminary reading, so you look smart. Now, don't try to be an expert to the experts this way lies disaster. If you were truly an expert you wouldn't need them would you, so don't think that reading a few books makes you an equal in knowledge to someone who's been there and done that, because it doesn't. I always learn something by being at a place, or seeing something done in person that I could never have gotten just from reading about it. Now, having said that please don't get all strange on me. If your hero falls off a thirty foot cliff into a river, you do not need to dive off a cliff to write about how it feels. Don't laugh, I know a writer who did that. He survived but he's never finished his book. He's too busy trying to LIVE his research. I write about some very frightening things and I do not do them in person. Do what you can safely and sanely hands-on, for the rest use your imagination, that's what it's for.

I find that my imagination works better with a jumping off point, though. For instance I am not one of those writers that write about a part of the country that I've never been too. I need to walk the streets, smell the air, feel the atmosphere, to be able to write well about a place. It's one of the reasons Anita and now Merry, don't go anywhere that I haven't at least visited. I also have a hard time writing of a season of the year that isn't the season I'm currently living in. If I'm writing about heat, then I need the press of the sun on my back, that summer brilliance outside my window. Now I can write out of season. I was writing a book set in winter when my daughter was a wee toddler. I must have finally gotten into the seasons in the story because I dressed her in sweats and a snow suit, me in a coat, and when we went outside it was a very warm eighty plus. But I'd been walking through snow and cold all day in my head, and I'd pulled off the trick of blurring the line between my head and the outside world. So I can write out of season but it's harder for me. Writing a book is hard enough, find out what makes it easier for you and try to do these things. Make your life easier if you can, other people will make life harder for you if they can, don't help them.

In following newsletters I'll try to talk more about plot, character finding you own unique voice, how do you get those crazy ideas, but all of those topics would take more time and space than we have. I know of at least two people who have followed my advice on writing two pages a day, no rewriting and they've finished books which are now going around to editors. If I'd rewritten as I wrote first draft I'd have never finished my first book let alone my twenty-third. Good luck to all of you aspiring writers. I don't whether to say, congratulations that you've decided to try or condolences. I read somewhere that anything worth doing, should be hard. If that 's the case then writing is very, very worth doing.

Laurell


David Brin: http://www. kithrup. com/brin/advicearticle. html
Lots of advice from a variety of authors http://www. eyeonbooks. com/craft. php
Learn your craft with others! http://sff. onlinewritingworkshop. com/

Lots of very useful info on the publishing industry: http://www. sfwa. org/beware/

http://anotherealm. com/prededitors/


Darla
Assistant to Laurell K Hamilton

After much debate, I have decided to make the rest of Keeper of Keys as friends only from here on out.  I will only allow certain people to view the rest of the chapters to give their feedback and advice upon.  If you wish to comment, comment on the chapters below.  Any comment would be nifty!

    If there was one thing to be said about Felix Smalley, it would be that he was completely obsessed with the idea of treasure.  Back in the young days of New Providence, it was to be said a nest among pirates.  Where the great pirate ships would make birth and wade in the rum and fun that New Providence held while waiting for rich Spanish ships full of gold and silver to make their pass.  Some would say that some of that treasure was still stowed away in hidden secret spots in New Providence.  So, when Felix heard such rumors would drag Amilee, Devlyn and Beatrix on wild treasure hunts that would usually end in the discovery of broken rum bottles.  So with the mention of a medallion, Felix's ears perked in interest.
    "Is this medallion made of gold or silver," whispered Felix to Devlyn who seemed to ignore him, but before he could put the question to Beatrix, she turned on him.
    "Felix, Amilee's brother may have just died and all you think of is the weight it would be in gold?" Beatrix chided Felix in hushed tones.  Felix seemed to take this to heart, and with wounded eyes looked towards Amilee.
    "I was only curious," the sullen boy replied as he kicked his feet slightly against the wood of the cottage floor.
    "Well, it's said that Amilee's father acquired the medallion on his travels, made for him by a medicine man in Africa.  The medallion is of pure gold, but to make the medallion special, two drops of his blood was required," Beatrix explained.
    "How does that make it special?  Just sounds unsanitary to me," Felix inquired.
    "Well, when Amilee's father met her mother, he would go out on long sea voyages.  He would give her the medallion, telling her that if he should ever perish at sea that the medallion would tell her," Beatrix took only a moments breath when the eager Felix chimed in.
    "How?  How would it tell her?"
    "I was getting to that.  Just before Amilee was born, Katerina felt the medallion turn to ice upon her skin.  Taking the medallion out, she saw that medal had turn pure black, instead of being it's normal gold.  That's how Katerina knew that she'd never see Tiernan again," Beatrix finished.
    "So it is gold," Felix grinned ever so slightly but quickly frowned when a very prominent elbow from Devlyn hit his side.  With a grunt he glared in Devlyn's direction, but the tall boy was paying Felix no heed.  He only had eyes for scene going on before him.
    Katerina had turned her back fully upon Amilee, refusing to talk to her.  With a sigh of defeat Amilee rose to her feet and turned to her friends, and slowly shuffled her feet passed them and out the door.  With awkward glances among Felix and Beatrix, they followed Devlyn who had quickly fallen into step behind Amilee.
    Outside, Amilee had crouched beside her mother's garden, idly picking a flower and examining it a little too hard.  Devlyn stayed back beside the door as Felix and Beatrix exited the cottage.  Devlyn let out a long soft sigh as his blue eyes remained steady upon Amilee.  Felix quickly, feeling quite inadequate to handle such a delicate situation fell in beside Devlyn.  The dark chocolate brown eyes of Beatrix flitted between the boys and Amilee.  Of course, she wasn't any better than Felix at these situations, but for some odd reason the responsibility of compassion and comfort always fell upon the shoulders of the girl.  This wasn't the time for Beatrix to argue how cruel it could be to be a girl sometimes, so with a heavy heart Beatrix went to Amilee's side.
    "Amilee, I know asking if you're all right would be foolish.  I just wish I knew what to say in these situations,"  Well, when all else fails, honesty is always the best policy right?
    "He's alive Beatrix, I feel it in my gut," Amilee looked up at Beatrix with tear clouded eyes.
    "I know he is, it's just that after your father dying, she probably feels like there's not much to hope for when it comes to fate in her favor."
    "I'm going to find him," Amilee's voice had hardened to dead certainty and conviction.  She pushed herself to her feet and crumpled the tiny flower in her fist. 
    Beatrix looked at her friend with quizzical confusion, "You're what?"
    With a narrow of her eyes, Amilee began to move towards the winding steps that lead down from the cottage, "I'm going to find him, Beatrix.  I'm going to find out what happened to Matthias."
    "Amilee, how are you going to India?  You don't have a ship.  You don't have a crew to help you sail there," Beatrix rushed after Amilee.
    Felix heard Amilee's proclamation and blinked.  A certain rush of excitement that surprised even him erupted in the pit of his stomach.  An adventure to be sure!  A chance to leave New Providence and set his hands on real treasure.
    "She has us, Beatrix!" Felix had scarcely known he had spoken without any real thought of doing so, "Amilee has us, we can help her find Matthias."
    "Felix, don't add to the situation," Beatrix warned, but Amilee was smiling at Felix.  This was going to end up to no good, Beatrix felt it in her bones.  The plan was already churning in Amilee's and Felix's eyes.
    "I have a boat," Devlyn's voice cut through the silence and stunned them all.  The normal one that would see all normal reasoning announced his throwing his support into their mad plan.
    "Devlyn?" Beatrix questioned as if he had gone mad.
    "Well, my father has the boat, but I have access to them."
    Felix's smile had gone to a wide grin as he looked to each of his friends, "We all know how to sail, we've all been around it our whole life.  Amilee has her crew.  Devlyn has the ship."
    "We've never set sail without one of our parents either, Felix.  Do you know how to handle a ship in a storm or how to navigate?" Beatrix questioned quickly seeing thoughts of doubt entering Felix's mind.
    It was only fleeting however, because his eyes brightened and turned towards Amilee, "No, but Amilee does.  Matthias trained her and those two went sailing around South America.  They got caught in the hurricane remember?"
    "That was just the outer rims of the hurricane," Beatrix noted.
    "It was enough to know how to handle a storm," Amilee had been quiet as her friends argued amongst themselves.
    "Amilee can be our captain, Beatrix," Devlyn's lips tilted slightly upwards giving a half smile as he bowed before Amilee, his dark blond hair falling about his face.
    "Captain Amilíona Redfern," Felix beamed at Amilee as he too followed in suit.
    Amilee's eyes met Beatrix's, searching for some sign of her friend's defeat and resignation to join them.  Beatrix looked down, then looked back up into Amilee's coffee brown eyes with determination.
    "If you can't beat them," Beatrix bowed herself down next to Devlyn, "Captain." 
    Felix on the other side of Devlyn, tilted his head so he could see Beatrix, giving her a wide grin.  Amilee who stood before them took in a deep breath as they all stood straight before her.
    "Pack your supplies.  Devlyn ready the ship.  We set sail tonight, well before dawn.  We don't want to be caught before we go underway," Amilee nodded her head and Felix let out a woop as he dashed down the stairs and out of sight.
    Devlyn looked to Beatrix then to Amilee, as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and left the same way Felix had.
    "Now, you're sure you want to do this Amilee?  I'm sure with time Matthias will return to New Providence," Beatrix hoped her friend would come to her senses.
    "I won't be able to rest knowing he's out there somewhere and may need my help.  We'll be back before Christmas, I promise you that Beatrix.  If we cannot find him in nine months time, I will give up the search and we'll return home," Amilee took a step towards her obviously reluctant friend and put a hand on her shoulder.
    "Alright, but I do not have a good feeling about this Amilee," Beatrix warned as she moved away from her friend's hand and started down the stairs, "Not one good feeling."
    With Beatrix out of sight Amilee turned back to her small cottage, seeing her mother slouched in front of the hearth, head buried in her hands.  Amilee drew herself up in courage and strength for herself and for her mother.
    "I will find him mother, I promise you that."
   

  Amilee Redfern bent over a cherry wood table her black curls spilling forward in front of her face and into her eyes.  With another annoyed bat at the curls she began again to wipe it clean.  Her dark coffee brown eyes glaring at the relentless streaks that would not leave the shined surface.  Amilee's neck strained with a burdensome but welcomed weight of a medallion.  The medallion was gold of course, with a figure of a man who was half on land and half on sea.  Behind him where the stars to guide him home by.  Amilee still remembered the day her brother Matthias had trusted it to her, before he left for India.
    "There is entirely too much salt in the air," complained Amilee as a white distasteful streak was left as she wiped the table down yet again.
    "That is what happens when one lives on an island," Beatrix muttered as she folded a green silk napkin.
    "You know, we'd be done faster if you weren't fiddling with napkins," Amilee stood, stretching her back with a groan.
    "Yes, but proper pirates deserve proper hats," Beatrix declared as she placed the green silk napkin hat upon her head.  It being so big it fell down about the brim of her slanted brown eyes.
    "Yes, but a proper pirate has proper weapons to protect herself with," Amilee picked up her broom handle and twirled it in the air.
    "Arrrr!  Yes, this be true Captain Redfern, but without ye wits a pirate be no better off then with a broom," with that Beatrix jumped up and charged at Amilee with a dustpan.
    A clash of wood and metal as the two girls circled each other.  Advancing and withdrawing with speed and grace, well enough speed and grace awarded two young girls in their work skirts and a broom and dustpan.
    "Beatrix Yamisoto!  Do you think this is clean?  If you cleaned as hard as you played, my restaurant would be cleaner than the pope's robes," a thick feminine accent split the air, causing both girls to halt in mid-lunge
    Beatrix quickly stood at attention and bowed before her mother in respect, "I'm sorry, mother."
    "Such disrespect.  I should expect more from my daughter than that," Mrs. Yamisoto flickered her gaze towards Amilee who stood in quiet abeyance as she scolded Beatrix.
    "It is my fault Mrs. Yamisoto.  I thought we were done for the day, and coaxed Beatrix into childish antics," knowing that Amilee was not of a proud Japanese line, Mrs. Yamisoto would excuse Amilee of such acts for simply she didn't know any better.
    "Yes, well my daughter should know better.  Finish cleaning and you both may go for the day," Mrs. Yamisoto took a look at both girls before exiting the room.
    An hour later, Beatrix finally said that it was clean enough to leave.  So the girls, took the back entrance of The Lotus Flower and headed west along the harbor. 
    The Lotus Flower stood in the middle of the bustling street facing the harbor of New Providence Island.  Beyond the harbor just along the horizon one could spot the small city of Nassau.  The Lotus Flower where it stood accumulated enough business to keep the Yamisoto family comfortable.  The eldest of which was Beatrix Yamisoto, who happened to be our darling Amilee's most common partner in crime.  I say crime, for that is what Beatrix's mother Taka Yamisoto claimed they committed more than half of the time when they should be cleaning.  Beatrix had a younger brother named Henry.  Both children were named after English names for the sake of fitting in.  Little did the Yamisotos that it only separated them further from the rest of the children in New Providence.
    Henry Yamisoto was quite the opposite of Beatrix.  Instead of flights of fantasy and imagination, he settled in to openly pleasing his mother and father.  Insomuch that Beatrix firmly believed that Henry was their favorite.
    "I'm serious Amilee, they just bought Henry a brand new set of pens for his desk while mine are splitting up the middle.  He doesn't even write like I do," complained Beatrix as they trudged up the toiling stone steps up to Amilee's house.  On their way up, two boys stood against the stone wall arguing quietly to one another, dark blond heads bent towards each other.
    "What are you two doing here?" Amilee asked, obviously startling the boys into upright positions.
    "Amilee, we escorted my father up to your house to talk to your mother.  I met Felix upon the way and he thought to accompany me," the tallest boy answered with a slight bow.  He was always one for polite courtesy, Devlyn Kelsey.  Especially when it came to Amilee.  Felix seemed quite uncomfortable with the idea of being there.  His blue grey eyes never quite looking towards Amilee.  Amilee's brow rose slightly as she drew her gaze up towards the tiny cottage atop the hill.
    "Manieal is up there?  Talking to my mother about what?  Is there news about Matthias?" Amilee's questions came in a torrent, and remained unanswered as she bounded up the rest of the steps and burst into the house where her eyes laid upon a tiny thin man standing in front of her mother Katerina with his light blond head bowed in solemnity.
    "Mother?" Amilee questioned as she approached her mother.  Her peppered grey hair was all she could see as she was bent forward with her head in her hands.  Upon questioning, Amilee's mother lifted her head.  Her tired blue eyes were ragged with strain, but remained dry.
    "Amilíona, Mr. Kelsey has brought news of your brother," Katerina's voice held the flood of emotions at bay as she looked away from Amilee and towards the fire that crackled in their hearth.  Amilee turned to look at Manieal who seemed quite uncomfortable with delivering the news twice in one day.  Manieal was a quiet man, of few words.  Not because he was proud, but out of shyness.
    "Forgive me Amilee, for bringing this news to you, but it seems your brother has been lost at sea," those last three words stung in Amilee's heart that she barely heard Manieal continue, nor her three friends enter to hear the news themselves.  "They have found the wreckage just 500 kilometers from their destination.  It seems that pirates attacked the ship."
    Amilee stood there in shock and disbelief.  Matthias was gone?  Gone from her, gone from her mother and gone from the world?  Never in her slightest dreams could Amilee fathom not seeing her brother torment their mother with quick pokes and tickles, driving her mother to yell and scream at him in earnestness through her laughter.  Though his pestering was quite bothersome at most times, it was something that Amilee could not believe she could live without.
    "Forgive me, I will leave you now.  Devlyn will attend to your needs for the night," with that Manieal bowed and left.
    "No, mother it is a mistake!" Amilee proclaimed as she rushed to her mother's side, going to her knees to look upon her mother's lowered head.
    "Amilee it isn't a mistake.  There were no survivors found among the wreckage," with obvious frustration with her daughter's disbelief she turned her face away from Amilee.
    "Mother, it is a mistake.  Matthias entrusted the medallion to me before he left.  Don't you think I would know if Matthias was dead?" Amilee insisted.
    Katerina seemed to freeze, and Amilee only had to wait a moment before her mother's face turned towards Amilee, "You have the medallion?"  And there seemed to be a flicker of hope in Katerina's eyes, but within a moment it had gone dark.  "Even if you had the medallion there is no guarantee that it would work for Matthias."
    "Medallion?" Felix looked quizzically towards Beatrix who rolled her eyes at him, drawing his confusion and curiosity to a new height, "What?"

Prologue

    All Matthias heard was the whistling at first, but he supposed that was always right before everything around him exploded into complete chaos.  Sure, there was pandemonium before, with the sighting of the foreboding black sails upon the horizon.  Not even the tension of the approaching ship could touch the thick laying fear in the air when the cannons exploded in the waters to the right of their ship.

    Men were yelling out orders to fire, while others were screaming in pain and agony as, not cannon balls, but the splinters of wood and metal pierced through their skin.  Such fear in the eyes of those around them, but Matthias could only feel the exhilaration of the impending doom.  Odd wasn't it?
   
    Matthias has been down below helping load a cannon, when he heard the shouts of the men above him and the clashing ring of swords.  As he turned to watch the stairs, a cannon split through the wood of the ship and hit his comrade next to him.  Abandoning his post, Matthias assailed the steps, drawing his father's sword as he went.
   
    The first thing to hit him was light, then a shadow overcame him and Matthias quickly brought up his sword to block a overhand blow.  Despite the nimbleness of his feet, the quickness of his blade, he felt a sharp pain from behind.  With a sharp intake of breath Matthias fell to his knees.
   
    A laugh split the air through the chaos as the fighting died out along with his friends.  Matthias' blue eyes rolled up to the azure of the sky, only to see a man come into his gaze.  So the laugh had a face did it?  A handsome face, but the eyes are what marred it.  The eyes the dark eyes, of a dark man who had done dark things.  The man stopped laughing as he examined Matthias face, from his light blond curls, to his blue eyes.  There was something about this boy, that the man obviously couldn't put a finger on.  Crouching down, the man cocked his head to the side, sending dark chocolate curls into his eyes.

    "You look familiar boy, what's yer name?" the man said eyes glinting suspiciously.
    "Ma-Ma-tthias Redfern," Matthias sputtered through the searing pain in his lungs. 
    There was a hush among the vagrant men about him, as each one looked at another with quizzical eyes, or in some cases eye.
    "Redfern?  Captain, that means that the boy..." a man with one arm started, but the dark eyed captain ignored him.
    "Redfern, eh boy?  Well, this either be yer lucky day, or this be the worst day of yer life," with that, there was a sudden pain atop Matthias his head.  Luckily he didn't feel it long, for the darkness took him long before the pain could.

The air seemed thick that night. The kind that weighs down your lungs making it difficult to suck in, but the air didn't bother her. It seemed so vivid in her memory...even more in her dreams. The footsteps echoing off the stone walls as the feet of the entourage around her fell on the cold marble floors. Each footstep resonated inside the dream as Kathryn tossed in those silken sheets. She knew what she would see once they reached that door, but still it seemed as if she couldn't wake herself up. Some part of her still had to see that heavy wooden door fly open to reveal...

A bright light hit Kathryn's eyes causing the red light of her eyelids to blur out the dream she was having. She wasn't entirely sure she was upset or thankful for her dream being disturbed. For the dream was not a one time occurrence of that night. The night that changed everything for Kathryn Bathory. The night Elizabeth Bathory fell from her reign.

Her sister's face haunted her dreams, those cool blue eyes accusing her of every treachery committed. How could Kathryn blame her? It was Kathryn who manipulated the elders into seeing her sister as an unfit matriarch of their people, the one who succeeded when the Blood Countess fell.

Her reverie ended when that voice cut through the memories and dreams.

"Would my lady be wanting her breakfast now?" a skinny little body of flesh that seemed to be talking to her said.
Kathryn blinked her eyes twice to remove the haziness before replying, "Yes, of course."

Her current handmaid, Delina seemed to resemble one of the many handmaids she had gone through in the past. Kathryn seemed to have a temper about her and her handmaids had the unfortunate fate of being around in one of her 'spells'. Of course these spells were normal among her people, but quite a sight among the outsiders of the world. Commonly called the impure by the Forsaken. The servants of her people were of the impure. Taken as babies and raised up in servitude.

And in that moment Kathryn chose to blink her eyes, discovering herself alone in her chambers and the food beside her cold.

"Not so early in the morning. I had hoped for a good day," Kathryn groaned.

With a sigh she threw back those silken sheets and let her feet touch the cold stone floors of her chambers. She hardly realized in the mornings that she was ever naked until those fingertips trailed down her very revealed thighs. She picked up a black silken robe and slid her slender shoulders in and comfortably tied it around her waist. A morning ritual, she thought as she glided to the silver vanity laden with creams, colors and scents to delight her. She sat herself down on that black velvet cushion and saw those emerald green eyes staring back at her.

Kathryn leaned forward just a bit to see if the light could catch the gold flecks in them. Her pale creamy face was framed by long strawberry blonde hair that fell to her mid back. Pride swelled up in her as she picked up the eyeliner pencil and started outlining her eyes with black when the door creaked open and Delina omitted herself once she saw her mistress was very much up and awake.

"I would like to wear a black one today," she twisted her face from side to side examining her handy work.
"Leather, Silk or Lace, my lady?" Delina held up the assorted clothes.
"Lace... I'm feeling very feminine today," Turning around on her cushion Kathryn watched Delina pick out black lace frocks for Kathryn to examine. Pointing her choice she stood up and untied her robe and let it slide off her and onto the floor.

"Mistress, Gabriel has called upon you this morning and hopes that you will see him today," Delina said quietly as she pulled the dress up Kathryn's naked body and helped her into the long sleeves.
"Gabriel," Kathryn sighed remembering then the tedious task of the men. Her voice hardened suddenly, "I will see Gabriel when I am amused to."

Delina only inclined her head as she finished fastening the dress tightly to her mistress' body and wisely curtsied her way out of the chamber. Kathryn watched her go out of the corner of her eyes before she turned to examine herself in the vanity mirror. Her body was wrapped in a lace dress that tightly hugged her curves. Her sleeves fell down in a flow of lace around her fingertips and her neck was deep enough to make any man look twice.

update October 16th 2005

As those green emerald eyes stared back at her in an amused demeanor a voice echoed in her head, threateningly. Snap her pretty little neck.. it would be so easy. Kathryn's eyelids fluttered ever so slightly. Gritting her teeth, her nails dug into the wood of her vanity.

"Leave! I have no need of you today!" Kathryn cursed the voice.
"Kathryn?" a voice behind her questioned.

Kathryn's eyes focused upon the figure in the reflection. A man wrapped in a stylish black suit stood directly behind her. Kathryn's lip curled in a snarl as she straightened herself.

"How dare you Gabriel enter my chambers without my approval," Kathryn turned allowing her fury be fully displayed upon her porcelain features.

"Forgive me this once, Kathryn?" Gabriel bowed fluidly but as he straightened himself a mocking smile was upon his lips. "I thought you would enjoy my company today, being as you my lady haven't had the company of man for quite some time."

As Gabriel neared, Kathryn's eyes darkened in her fury. It was but two steps forward she took before she was in front of him. Her hand made a sharp sound as the back of it landed across his cheek, her rings digging into flesh and ripping sharp lines across.

"You dare speak to your queen in such a manner? You shall address me appropriately Gabriel, for you are as much aware as am I how high in the Forsaken you rank," Kathryn's voice was bitter sweet as she brought her rings to lips to suck the blood from them.

"Yes, Gabriel. That is no way to speak to one such as she," a voice hidden behind Gabriel said teasingly. A voice Kathryn dared not dream of. A voice that put her body in a frozen state.

Gabriel had not time to recover from the surprise of Kathryn's strike, touched his hand gently to his cheek before turning to face the source of the voice. Gabriel's dark eyes narrowed as they stared at the dark figure leaned against the door frame of Kathryn's chamber.

"James, you dare show yourself back here again? After you disgraced us? You are lower than a human," Gabriel spat.

James. the voices whispered at once in Kathryn's head. She paid them no heed for she herself could not believe that he was there, before her. She could not help but have him soaked into her sight. Those piercing golden eyes peering through those strands of black hair that fell ever so delicately across his forehead. His black suit held that well toned figure that her hands had grazed across so many times in her life.

"James," Kathryn whispered under her breath, but it wasn't long until she remembered what he had done. He had left her, alone in that place. Left her for what was rumored a human woman. Kathryn didn't believe such things at first, but after so long of years the rumors had taken root in her own heart. Her eyes hardened reluctantly against James as she turned her back upon both of them. "Leave us, Gabriel."

"Kathryn!" Gabriel began to protest. "How could you entertain such an idea as listening to such..."

"I said leave us!" Kathryn forced out through her teeth as she lowered herself into the vanity seat.

Defeated, and cradling his cheek in his hand Gabriel bowed his head and moved towards the door, eyes glaring at James' amused face. As Gabriel left, James turned and shut the door, leaving them both in the room alone.