The Pond - Part 20

Izolda held up her hand, admiring the gold band on her finger. On the wagon seat beside her, Nikolai was a solid presence, filling her with optimism for the days ahead.

Everything had gone as planned, better even, than she expected. Nikolai had come to the room at the inn, expecting to see Katrinka. Though he was not surprised, or displeased to see Izolda, his shock at her news froze him in place long enough for her to embrace him, transferring the dust for her spell to work onto his skin.

She planned on allowing him time to mourn, while at the same time encouraging the revival of his affection for her. Things were different in this new land. An extended period of mourning was unnecessary. It surprised her to learn that Nikolai had only told his friends that he was going to fetch his wife, he’d told them nothing about her ahead of time. She could not believe her good fortune – it would be easy to slip into the role of fiancée.

But once again, Nikolai surprised her. As an unattached female, it would be unseemly for her to travel with him without a chaperone, so he gave her a choice. He had come for a wife, and he intended to return with a wife. She could take Katrinka’s place, or he would pay for her passage back to Russia.

While she had convinced herself that Katrinka had not been the right woman for Nikolai, from the way the girl had carried on she had assumed there was a great bond of affection between them, if not love. She had never considered the affection was one sided. Would this make things easier, or more difficult for her? She had no idea.

She had not needed to feign her surprise at his ultimatum. Either the spell she had begun weaving over him in Russia was stronger than she realized, or he cared for no-one, wanting only the status of being married. Her resolve hardened. Perhaps he might not care for her in that way yet, but by the time they reached the place where they would make their life together, he would.

And so they were married in the chapel that had been pre-arranged by Nikolai for him and Katrinka. Katrinka, Izolda knew, would not have liked the dark, tiny chapel that smelled of the sea. She would have demanded a church, and the opportunity to wear her finery. And she would have expected a fine dinner afterwards.

Izolda and Nikolai had a pleasant enough meal in a café near the harbour, but Izolda couldn’t have cared less. She had what she wanted, marriage to Nikolai. Now she had the rest of her life to turn him into the man she knew he could be.

“I have a confession to make,” he told her, facing the trail again.

“So soon? The ink is hardly dry on our wedding papers,” she teased.

He smiled faintly. “It is something I was going to tell Katrinka,” he said heavily.

“Oh,” Izolda’s mind raced. Why would he feel the need to tell her something that was meat to be shared with Katrinka?

“I was going to try and talk her out of this marriage. That’s why I was so relieved when she wrote that you were coming with her – you could be our chaperone.”

He went on in a rush. “I was sure there would be someone in the town that would be more suited to her. She was unused to hard work, and she was somewhat . . . frivolous. She would have driven me mad, had we married. But it had been arranged.” He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “You must think me a terrible person.”

“No, I—no,” Izolda said, stunned at his confession. “But . . . why marry me, then? You were under no obligation to do so.”

“From the first moment we met, I felt drawn to you. I knew you would be the kind of wife I dreamed of. You are strong, and capable. You would work alongside of your man. And you are beautiful,” he added.

“I cannot believe this,” Izolda whispered.

“I know I should be mourning Katrinka, but I barely knew her. You, I feel I have known you always.”

“We are going to have a wonderful life together,” Izolda prophesized.

Triolet Poetry Form

The Triolet is a medieval French form, thought to have originated in thirteenth-century France. Pronounced TREE-o-LAY, the Triolet is a single stanza of eight lines. It has a repetitive rhyme scheme of ABaAabAB – the capital letters represent lines that are repeated word-for-word. Thus, the first, fourth, and seventh lines are the same, and the second and last line are the same.

In the 17th century it was used as a vehicle for propaganda and character assassination during French civil uprisings. In the late 17th century and early 18th century they began to appear in English. In the 18th and 19th centuries, it began appearing in Russian, Spanish, Portuguese, and many other European languages. Still in all, the Triolet was never a commonplace poem, although it does seem to be growing in popularity in the 21st century.

Schematic:

A – first line
B – second line
a – rhymes with 1st line
A – same as 1st line
a – rhymes with 1st line
b – rhymes with 2nd line
A – same as 1st line
B – same as 2nd line


At first glance it seems like a really easy form. After all, technically you only have to write five out of eight lines, but it’s a little tricky getting those lines to make sense.


TRUTH
I look into your eyes
and you show me the truth
but can this be wise?
I look into your eyes
and search for the lies
though you’ve given me proof.
I look into your eyes
and you show me the truth.


LOVE
A love must be pure to live for forever
such as the one between you and I,
a love incorrupt that nothing can sever
a love must be pure to live for forever,
a goal to be sought, life’s greatest endeavor
a challenge to pass, the gods to defy.
A love must be pure to live for forever
such as the one between you and I.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas is the spirit of giving without a thought of getting. It is happiness because we see joy in people. It is forgetting self and finding time for others. It is discarding the meaningless and stressing the true values.
— Thomas S. Monson

Santa Claus is anyone who loves another and seeks to make them happy; who gives himself by thought or word or deed in every gift that he bestows.
— Edwin Osgood Grover

Christmas is a necessity. There has to be at least one day of the year to remind us that we're here for something else besides ourselves.
— Eric Severeid

Hope everyone is having a good Christmas (or whatever it is you celebrate).

I usually look at the week between Christmas and New Year’s as my time for looking back on the year behind me and figuring out a game plan for the year ahead. The fact that this post falls on Christmas Day is unfortunate, but it doesn’t change the content.

So let’s start by taking a quick look at my goals from last year:
1. Finishing – start tackling my pile of unfinished books and short stories, one at a time.
2. Selling – start submitting more of my work for publication.
3. Writing – start every day with a timed writing, set aside time for other writing as well.
4. Learning – put a little effort into learning something new every day.

Doesn’t seem too unreasonable, does it? But how did I do . . . that, is the question.

1. Finishing. Well . . . I finished Magical Mayhem, so there’s that. But I would not say that one out of eleventy billion books/stories qualifies as a success.

2. Selling. I made a token attempt at the beginning of last year, but that fizzled out pretty quickly. I think I need to come up with some kind of system. Like, dedicate one morning a week where that’s all I do – look for markets and submit stuff.

3. Writing. Writing should go without saying, but in this case it was at the very least writing every day. I made a strong start with this, doing what I called my three-minute words. I’d pick a word at random and then free write for three minutes. This worked really well until I turned these random words into a serial. And when it ended, I started a new serial but I wasn’t using random words so I wasn’t writing every day. So I guess this would be a half win.

4. Learning. Well, this was a big, fat fail. I paid for a bunch of classes, but never did them. There was no set time to start them, so hopefully they can still be used this year. I did go to the Kingston Writersfest where I participated in most of the masterclasses, so I guess it wasn’t a total failure, but I still don’t know how to use Dropbox properly.

As you can see, I didn’t do too well on my goals last year. In fact, I really sucked. And I have no good reason for it either. I guess you could say I was in the wrong head space for most of it. This isn’t always something I can change, but I am learning to live with it.

The week ahead is going to be one of reflection on how I can improve my writing habits. Maybe 2023 will be the year it sticks.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

What kind of a crazy person has time for blog posting before Christmas? Me, apparently. To be fair though, Monday’s post on the other blog was videos, and Wednesday’s was a repeat of the only Christmas poem I’ve ever written. I think I might make this a yearly tradition.

The hardest post to do was the serial installment, and it wasn’t that I didn’t have time to do it, I just wasn’t sure what happens next. So I really struggled with it, and I think it shows. I’m really not looking forward to the first meeting between Izolda and Nikolai because it’s going to be a pivotal moment in the story

This week’s distractions included the mother-in-law's funeral, visiting with out-of-town relatives, finishing up the Christmas shopping, making fudge, and the big ass storm that hit late Friday afternoon and is just beginning to dissipate today. If you’re on my Facebook page you’ll have seen the failure of my first double batch of chocolate fudge. The second batch worked well, as did the double batches of peanut butter fudge and peppermint fudge. Single batches included almond fudge, chocolate mint fudge, and caramel fudge (which never really set right, but that was okay because it tasted terrible).

Friday started out raining, but the temperature dropped rapidly and the wind picked up to gale force by mid-afternoon. Most of the town lost power, but we are fortunate enough to live in the narrow strip of town that didn’t.

NEW WORDS:
1842+159+548+612=3,161
DOWN – 110 words from last week

Goals For Next Week:
Get my blog posts done early.

EDITING:
0 pages
Due to time constraints and social obligations, I got no editing done. However, I did think about it at least.

Goal For Next Week:
Start work on An Elemental Spirit.

MARKETING:
I made no inroads in making an Amazon page (to be honest, I forgot all about it), and I’m sure it’s easier than I think it is. Nor did I start filling out the paperwork to be included in the book promotion site. I’m starting to think this is going to be something to attempt in the New Year.

Goal For Next Week:
Look into developing an author page on Amazon, work on the book promotion form.

TECH & TRAINING:
I did not look into doing anything with Dropbox. It keeps getting lost in the shuffle of the minutiae of life.

Goal For Next Week:
Start backing up files to Dropbox. Set up external hard drive.

POETRY WEDNESDAY:
I cheated a bit on the poetry post last week, I recycled an old poem. But it’s the only Christmas poem I have, so it is what it is. I’m actually thinking about posting it every Christmas, at least until I come up with a new one.

This month’s prompt for my poetry group is pretty interesting, encompassing an entire year in verse. It might behoove me to get started on it early.

Goal For Next Week:
Share a new poetry form; work on my poemwork.

CRAFTING:
I had no time for crafting last week, not even so much as a row or two on my afghan. So, I made fudge. And whipped shortbread. Only the out-of-towners got ornaments this year, everyone else will have to settle for cookies and fudge. It is what it is (which is apparently my new motto).

Goal For Next Week:
Work on the craft migration, work on the afghan.

WHAT I’M READING:
Didn’t have a whole lot of time for reading last week, but I’m almost Unnatural Creatures, which is an anthology of stories selected by Neil Gaiman. I did read a very old romance anthology called the Night Before Christmas to get me in the Christmas spirit. The nice thing about rereading something from years ago is that only one of the stories was vaguely familiar.

Goal For Next Week:
Start making a little time to read every day.

GOAL REVIEW:

Once again I got all my blog posts done, which is really saying something considering it was the week before Christmas.

It’s not surprising that I did no editing and no marketing, because hello, Christmas. Plus there was some family chaos and shopping to do and fudge to make.

I did not do a new poetry form, but I did get a post up.

No crafting, Christmas or otherwise. I’m really hoping to start the great craft migration this week, but I’ve got a bunch of stuff going on this week, so we’ll have to see. At the very least I’d like to see how far I can get on the afghan.

The mother-in-law’s funeral was not all that dramatic, but there was a lot of drama both before and after. I tell you, it’s a shame I don’t write for the soaps, I’d have fodder for years.

Last week wasn’t as stressful as I expected it to be, but on the other hand, I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked. I’m grateful we pretty much finished our shopping on Thursday, because the storm was pretty epic.

Here’s hoping for a happy and healthy New Year.

The Pond - Part 19

Having spent her morning on the deck watching the New World draw nearer, Izolda retired to her cabin for the actual docking. The trunks were carefully packed, and if some of Katrinka’s nicer clothes had ended up in Izolda’s trunk, well, there was no one to know but Izolda.

The somber black dress she wore was Katrinka’s. Why a bride needed such a dress was beyond her, but it served Izolda’s purposes well. A grey dress would not have conveyed the sentiment as strongly as black, nor would it have made her skin seem as lustrous. Appearance was going to play a large part in her first meeting with Nikolai.

It was important that she get close enough to Nikolai as quickly as possible to transfer another of her powders to him, one much stronger than the one she’d used on the captain. Even so, she knew Nikolai well enough to know that even if she could revive his feelings towards her, he might feel obligated to send her home again until a suitable period of mourning for Katrinka had passed. She could not let that happen.

As she waited for the ship to go through the docking procedures, she paced in the cabin, rehearsing what she would say, and how she would say it. While it was true she had the power to make Nikolai her puppet, that’s not what she wanted.

Back in the old country there had been a spark of attraction, but he had been duty-bound to Katrinka. It had really taken very little to drive a wedge between the two, and to enhance what he’d already felt for Izolda. She wanted him, yes, but as he was, not as some soulless creature.

Nikolai was a strong, ambitious man and he needed a strong woman at his side to help him achieve those ambitions. That woman was her, Izolda. Katrinka had been frivolous and weak. He would have eventually realized his mistake in marrying her, but it would have been far too late.

Finally, finally! There was a knock on her door, the porters come to take the trunks away. Izolda gave herself a final once over in the mirror, then picked up her reticule and followed, joining the line of passengers disembarking the ship

The city of Boston spread out beyond the docks, and Izolda was intimidated, in spite of herself. It was so very different from Russia. The cacophony of voices around her was deafening. Katrinka’s father had hired a tutor to teach his daughter, and by extension Izolda, English. She had been careful not to let either the tutor or Katrinka know how quickly she’d caught on to the new language so as not to rouse the other girl’s jealousy.

Now she was able to understand many words and phrases spoken by the people around her, but everyone talked so fast! It took her a few moments to translate what was being said. For the first time she was grateful for the ship’s captain insisting that the steward accompany her to the inn where there was a room waiting for her.

The fact that the room was in the name of Katrinka Romanovich rankled a bit, but it couldn’t be helped. His duty done, the steward tipped his hat and left. Now all that was left was the waiting. Izolda didn’t mind this waiting. She was a patient soul, especially when it mattered. And Nikolai mattered a great deal to her.

A Visit From the Computer Tech

I’d almost forgotten about this parody, which I wrote twelve years ago. Despite technology changing and growing over the years, I think it’s still apropos today. Merry Christmas, everyone!


A Visit From the Computer Tech

’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, just the optical mouse;
The cords were all strung to the PC with care
In hopes the technician soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of interwebs danced in their heads;
The wife couldn’t take any more of this crap
So she went to bed while I took a nap.
When there on the screen there arose such a clatter
I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the keyboard I flew like a flash,
Grabbed up the mouse and gave it a bash.
The monitor gleamed with a brilliant blue glow
Seeming to mock me as I loudly moaned, “No!”
And what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a security warning that made my eyes tear.
With an attack on my drivers, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment my computer was sick.
More rapid than eagles the popups they came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now Trojan, now Wormy, now BankerFox vixen!
A technician’s coming, my computer he’s fixin’
By installing protection, a router, a wall!
And then he’ll delete you, delete one and all!”
And then, in a twinkling, as I thought to despair,
A van entered my driveway and parked with a flair.
I opened the door with a feeling profound,
And into the house came the tech with a bound.
He was dressed all in blue from his head to his toe
And his jacket was covered with a sprinkling of snow.
A box full of tools was grasped in his hand
And he looked like an angel, come down to land.
His eyes, they were bloodshot, his face was unshaven
From his pocket he pulled a business card graven.
He was balding and old, and he started to sneeze,
Then, spotting the cat said, “I’ve got allergies.”
The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth
And he caught his hat on the door, in the wreath.
A squint of his eye and a shake of his head
Soon gave me to know the bill I would dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to work,
And in a few moments pulled the plug with a jerk.
“The mother board’s fried,” he said, shaking his head.
“And the rest of your hard drive looks like it’s dead.”
Then he packed up the tower and picked up his tools
“Gotta watch these old ‘puters, they’re stubborn as mules.”
He walked to his van, my computer in hand
I had to admit, this did not go as planned.
And I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, no more surfing to-night.”

The Write Way

A trilogy is a huge investment on the part of author, publisher, and reader, and I'm grateful that so many people were willing to invest along with me.
— Rae Carson

I love the trilogy form. I like the idea that you can establish a character in book one. And then in the second part, you can take the characters down to their darkest point. And then in the third part, you have total freedom either to give them redemption - or just to kill them.
— Adrian McKinty

In writing a series of stories about the same characters, plan the whole series in advance in some detail, to avoid contradictions and inconsistences.
— L. Sprague de Camp

So . . . last week I talked a bit about how I’ve been writing a series but doing it wrong, this week I’d like to explore how I should have been doing it.

Okay, I’m going to assume you have a brilliant idea that you can sustain across a multi-volume series. But to make sure, you need to plot it out. This is the hard part, if you’re a pantser like me. It’s not that you can’t write a series without plotting it out first, but you need to know how the whole thing is going to end so that all roads lead to that resolution. And even a sketchy, point form outline will keep you on track.

If you’re a plotter, you need to have a basic plan for the entire series, and then you can plot the individual books one at a time. This let’s you understand not just how each book fits together, but how it fits into the series as well so you can tie it all together in the end. An organized structure will help you keep track of what happens and when, especially important when the action is spread across multiple books

Don’t be afraid to include subplots. Subplots can be fun and liven things up for your readers. The ups and downs of one (or more) subplot can provide a rise and fall in the overall action to help keep the reader interested.

While all four of my Elemental books can almost stand on their own, they’re basically subplots to the larger story that makes them part of the whole. Now the Moonstone Chronicles on the other hand, are all a continuation of the same story, but also have subplots – sort of a story within a story.

Plotting it out ahead of time will also help you figure out how many volumes your series is going to be – don’t drag it out just because you think you can sell more books. It weakens the overall story.

Next you need to think about setting and characters. Are you using the same setting for the whole series? A different setting for each book? Whichever you decide, your setting needs to be vivid and intriguing enough that your readers aren’t going to get bored.

Characters need to be interesting, likeable, and multifaceted. They’re the reason your readers will keep coming back – to see what happens next to their favorite character. It’s important to introduce your character’s desires and goals early, so your reader will become attached to them. But reveal their details slowly, so there’s something new to learn with each volume.

Make your secondary characters count, don’t just have them pop in and out for no good reason. They should have purpose. Maybe they help your main character, or maybe they’re there to get in their way. They could even trigger a subplot.

One thing that’s really helpful is a story bible. I wish I’d done this with my series, and I fully intend to do them going forward. This is a dedicated notebook that contains everything you ever wanted to know about your book series – characters, actions, subplots, settings, maps (if you’ve got them).

The story bible is something you can refer back to when you’re not sure if a character’s eyes are blue or green, or if he’s left-handed or right-handed. Or you’ve forgotten what time of year it is, or what city they were headed for. Maybe you’ve used a particular subplot already.

Your final book should offer a resolution to the minor conflicts as well as the big one, otherwise your readers are going to feel cheated. Perhaps your story needs to come full circle, ending where it began, or maybe your hero(s) ride off into the sunset. But one way or another, if the series is done, the story should be done.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

WORDAGE REPORT

This has been a week, I tell you what.

There were a lot of outside influences, all converging from keeping me from getting ahead with my writing, but that which does not kill us makes us stronger, right?

My stitchery group had their Christmas luncheon last week, I had a poetry group meeting, the pleasure of the granddaughter’s company due to a snow day, and there was a death in the family.

Sadly, the only one that didn’t really affect my time was the death in the family. My mother-in-law passed away, but this was not unexpected as she was in a nursing home for a number of years and her health wasn’t good. The husband’s family is large, and somewhat dysfunctional, and the real drama won’t be happening until next week when all the drama llamas begin converging for the funeral.

The good news is, despite the big chunks of my time being sucked up by social obligations, I still managed to tread water with the writing. And, of course, this being the time of year it is I’ve being doing a lot of thinking and reflecting on what lies ahead and what I want out of the year to come. I haven’t come to any conclusions, but I’m working on it.

NEW WORDS:
Blog Posts – 1756+292+259+841=3,148
Extra poem – 123 words Total words = 3271
UP 141 words from last week

Goals For Next Week:
Get my blog posts done early.

EDITING:
0 pages
Due to time constraints and social obligations, it never even occurred to me to try and do some editing, although I do have a folder with the files for Elemental Spirit on my desktop now. So maybe that counts as progress?

Goal For Next Week:
Start work on An Elemental Spirit.

MARKETING:
Well, hell. Maybe I was a little premature putting marketing back on the table.

I made no inroads in making an Amazon page, and I’m sure it’s easier than I think it is. Nor did I start filling out the paperwork to be included in the book promotion site. I’m starting to think this is going to be something to attempt in the New Year.

Goal For Next Week:
Look into developing an author page on Amazon, work on the book promotion form.

TECH & TRAINING:
Incentive or no, I did not look into doing anything with Dropbox. It keeps getting lost in the shuffle of the minutiae of life.

Goal For Next Week:
Start backing up files to Dropbox. Set up external hard drive.

POETRY WEDNESDAY:
I did the last of the Chazz Combs forms last week, the Jay’s Way form. Which was kind of fun in an annoying, on drugs kind of way. I read all three of the forms to my poetry group Wednesday night and there was some lively discussion on whether Mr. Combs picked the syllable counts he did on purpose, or if he just arbitrarily picked them out of a hat.

I also wrote a bonus poem last week that I shared with my poetry group (but not on line). It was created from the prompt we were given for the month of December. At last month’s meeting the four of us who showed up were asked to write the beginning of a sentence. These sentence fragments were then to be incorporated into a poem for this month. It was a fun exercise.

Goal For Next Week:
Share a new poetry form.

CRAFTING:
Looks like I’m on my own as far as crafting goes. I can’t compete with kitten cuteness. LOL

I was really hoping to include home made crafts in my Christmas packages this year, and thanks to the return of the crafts I made that didn’t get sold at the craft sale, I was able to include a small sampling in my two outgoing parcels, but it’ll be up to me to make them myself if I want to include any more.

Goal For Next Week:
Keep going on the Christmas crafts for gifting.

WHAT I’M READING:
Last week I didn’t have a lot of time to read, but I did manage the 2-in-1 volume, A Wish For the Season, which included A Season For Grace by Linda Goodnight, and Heart of the Family by Margaret Daley. Once again I didn’t realize until after I’d bought it that it was a Love Inspired book. Not that there’s anything wrong with them, it’s just usually I like something with a little more bite to it.

And I started reading Unnatural Creatures, which is an anthology of stories not written by Neil Gaiman, but selected by him.

Goal For Next Week:
Start paying better attention to what kind of book I’m buying.

GOAL REVIEW:

Some of them may have been late, but I got all my posts done last week, and considering the week I had, that’s saying something.

It’s not surprising that I did no editing and no marketing, because that’s just the way things have been rolling lately.

I did a new poetry form, plus an extra poem for my poetry group meeting. Seven members showed up, which is almost twice what it’s been the last few months, so that was nice.

The crafting was a big, fat bust. I’d bought all this pasta so the granddaughter and I could make pasta snowflakes, and then she opted to play with the kittens instead of crafting. I did make a half-hearted attempt to make them myself, but all I had to go by was a picture, and I’m not sure what they used to stick the pasta together. Obviously not a glue gun. So . . . we’ll be eating a lot of pasta in the new year. LOL

The mother-in-law passed quietly last week, without fanfare or drama. The real drama will begin when the hypocritical drama llamas all gather for the funeral this coming week.

This will obviously make for a stressful week, but I’m still hoping to at least get my blog posts done.

The Pond - Part 18

Izolda stood at the rail of the ship, the light wind teasing the hair she wore down to make herself look younger and more vulnerable. She was wearing one of Katrinka’s dresses – why should she not? They were much the same size and it took very little to alter it to fit properly. And after all, what was Katrinka’s was now hers.

She looked out over the ocean, as she did quite often, always looking forward, never behind. The seas had calmed almost immediately after Katrinka had been lost, much to the puzzlement of the captain and crew. They’d never seen a storm blow up and then dissipate so quickly.

With one last, deep breath of fresh sea air, she turned and reluctantly started back towards her cabin. It wouldn’t do to spend too much time out on deck. One of the matrons who’d been whispering in a little cluster near the salon might take it into her head to try and take Izolda under her wing, the poor, bereaved dear.

As she passed them, they murmured sympathetic nonsense. Izolda smiled sadly at them and kept going. One of them made as though to follow, but a gesture with her right hand had the woman halting in her tracks and then returning to her friends.

“I thought you were going to offer to sit with her, Claire,” one of the women said.

Claire had a slightly dazed look on her face. “I didn’t want to intrude,” she said slowly. “We must all deal with loss in our own way. Some do better on their own. We should leave her alone.”

Her friends looked at each other in confusion.

As Izolda disappeared from view, she could hear their loud whispers behind her and could barely suppress a smile. Really, those women were even easier to influence than Katrinka had been. Her smile faded. Hopefully Nikolai would be as well.

She closed the cabin door behind her and locked it. Going over to her own trunk, she pulled out her book of spells and unwrapped it. Settling down in the middle of the bed – the perfect size when one didn’t have to share – she opened it up and began leafing through it.

Though she knew it by heart, she went over the spell that would allow her to regain her control over Nikolai again. With any luck, the seeds she had already planted would still be there. She would just have to refresh the spell, rather than renew it.

The key would be to take things slowly. He must be given time to mourn, but as he did so she would make sure his thoughts of Katrinka would become less fond. And he would need comfort from someone who had known Katrinka. It would seem only natural that he turn to her. She would make it so.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door. Izolda frowned, but closed the book, wrapping it up again before placing it back in the trunk.

“Who is it?” she asked through the closed door.

“It’s Captain Jennings.”

Izolda cursed under her breath. “One moment please.”

Quickly, she went back to the chest and pulled out her box of herbs and a mortar and pestle. A pinch of this, a touch of that, a quick grind with the pestle, then she gathered up a pinch of the resulting powder and closed the chest again.

Unlocking the door, she pretended to stumble and when the captain stooped to help her, she blew the dust in his face. “Oh, pardon me for my clumsiness, Captain.”

“No harm done, my dear,” he said.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” she asked, although she knew perfectly well why he was here. “You will forgive me for not inviting you in,” she continued. “But it is unseemly for me to have a male visitor without a chaperone.”

“Forgive my intrusion,” he said, his face slightly flushed. “We should make landfall tomorrow and I have come to offer my services as an escort for when you meet your friend’s fiancé and must break the sad news to him.”

He had come to her with the same offer the previous day, but obviously the spell she cast then made him forget completely.

“I thank you for your kind offer,” she said. “But you need not concern yourself. Such news would be better coming from a friend.”

“You’re right, of course,” the captain said. “I will take my leave of you.”

Izolda’s breath came out in a huff as she locked the door again. If she were to look on the bright side, at least having to deal with all these people allowed her to hone her spells.