Please note this excerpt is from an early draft of Dark Blade Tempered and it is subject to changes before the book actually comes out, but it will hopefully give you a sense of where things are going in book two of the Dark Blade Trilogy, without giving too much away.
This current section stands as Chapter 5 and 6 (short chapters), but I am considering moving it up to be chapters 3 and 4. Either way, when the book comes out, it will be there in some form.
Chapter 5: Details and Dancing
Shafts of moonlight poured into the main hall from the narrow openings built into the stone at regular intervals. The room could easily be defended if anyone made it so far into the Watch Guard Keep. During the winter, the carved slits for bowmen had been covered with thick wood panels and thatch to keep in the heat, but in the summer, the windows remained open, with small bags of herbs placed around them to keep out any bugs or pests.
Dan had never paid attention to such small details in his former life. He’d taken the comforts of home for granted. Now, as a Watch Guard apprentice, he was questioned endlessly about what he observed in any given situation. According to the instructors, clever assassins could switch out herb sachets for ones filled with poison. The wood panels covering the arrow slits could be burned during the winter. Even the smallest technicalities could determine whether the Keep stood or fell.
Today, though, there was no test of his observational skills, just the clean, sharp scent of mint filling the hall. He relaxed slightly, noting the way the light contrasted with the deep interior shadows. The central candelabra was lit, but the rest of the room felt stark, with tables shoved aside for an impromptu dance lesson. He circled the perimeter, his thoughts bouncing between reluctance and frustration. Swordplay was already humbling enough. Did he really need to be bested on the dance floor as well?
A familiar voice cut through his musings. “What’s this?”
Dan turned toward the doorway, relief warming him at the sight of Alex. His friend’s posture was as straight-backed and confident as ever, a blend of royal grace and military discipline. Seeing him now, Dan felt a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying lift slightly. The last time he’d seen Alex, the prince had been burdened with courtly matters—particularly the legal case that had uncovered dealings in human trafficking within their kingdom. Alex had seemed worn down, his humor dimmed by the gravity of it all. Yet now, he stood before them with a smirk, his sharp blue eyes alive with mischief. For the moment, at least, his friend seemed untroubled, and Dan silently hoped the prince’s heart was lighter.
Still, his relief was tempered by worry as Alex greeted Flycke with easy camaraderie. Dan’s gaze lingered on the Mersea girl. Her people were notorious for piracy—privateering, if one wanted to soften the word—and she carried herself with the casual charm of someone used to getting what she wanted. She was dangerous, no question, though how much of that danger might affect Alex was anyone’s guess.
Amiria drew Dan’s attention back to her with a sweeping gesture toward Flycke and Keeva. “We’re going to show Dan, Perren, and Farrald how dance can improve their defensive strategies.”
Alex dropped his bags, grinning as he leaned against the doorway. “This, I would pay to see.” His gaze fixed on Dan, his grin widening. “Let’s see how quick you are on your feet these days, old friend.”
Dan groaned inwardly, already knowing what memory Alex was dredging up. Years ago, they’d turned a court ball into chaos, doubling and then tripling the tempo of the dances until they crashed into some of the nobles. The resulting scolding from their mothers had been legendary.
Amiria cocked her head. “Quick footwork? I’ve noticed you stay too still in your bouts, Dan. I think you need to rediscover this skill.” She held out her hands, a challenge in her expression.
Dan hesitated but eventually gave her a short bow and took her hands. Her grip was firm, her hands warm and calloused, yet oddly elegant. The proximity unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
“Like in any good bout, dancers must maintain proper distance,” she said.
Her words caught him off guard, mirroring his own earlier thoughts, and he glanced up sharply. She smirked.
“Come, Dan, it’s not that frightening,” she teased.
“No, it’s not… I’m not afraid, exactly,” he muttered.
Across the room, Perren snorted. “This is going to be entertaining.”
“Oh, you’ll be part of the show,” Keeva countered, dragging Perren to the center of the floor. His face turned red as she clasped his hands, but he offered no resistance.
Flycke, meanwhile, turned to Farrald, extending a hand. Farrald declined with a shake of his head. “I think Alex should have this dance.”
Dan frowned as Alex eagerly crossed the room to take Flycke’s hand. The prince bowed with exaggerated grace, his words dripping charm. “It would be my honor.”
It was all Dan could do to bite back a protest. How could he explain his concern to the others without sounding absurd? His instincts told him Flycke’s influence on Alex was more than mere flirtation. But before he could dwell further, Amiria tugged on his hand.
“I know,” she mouthed, her gaze steady. Then, more loudly for the others, she said, “Let’s do a reel where we change partners. It will make things much more interesting. Farrald, can you count the time for the Fisherman’s Daughter?”
“I don’t know that one, but what about the Merchant’s Lost Love?” Farrald countered.
Dan exchanged a glance with Alex, noting his friend’s confusion. Good, at least he wasn’t alone in his ignorance.
Perren, however, looked positively stricken. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, Dan grinned. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Chapter 6: Saved by a Summons
The Dark Blade pulsed against Dan’s hip as Amiria’s calloused hands pressed warm and firm into his own. Her steady gaze offered comfort, but the weapon’s constant presence reminded him of the weight of his responsibilities. Farrald began counting for “the Merchant’s Lost Love” – an unfamiliar dance far removed from the courtly measures he’d learned as a young noble of Septily.
“And one, and two, and three, and four, step, together, step together, step together, step together, turn it around.” Farrald’s measured rhythm echoed through the great hall, each syllable matching their movements like a heartbeat.
Within a few faltering steps, Dan began to relax, though the Blade’s energy never truly left his awareness. The dance seemed simple enough, and Amiria’s smile drew him in. He found himself focusing on her warm brown eyes, the way wisps of dark hair had escaped her practical braid. Her hands guided him with subtle pressure against his fingers – two steps right, two left, then turning around each other, their fingers still intertwined. The sequence repeated three times, and Dan couldn’t help noticing how naturally they moved together.
Then Amiria released his hands. He held them out, missing her warmth, but apparently, the dance wasn’t going to keep them together.
“Now, separate,” Farrald said.
Amiria took four precise marching steps, her movements fluid and assured. Dan followed, anxiety creeping back as he realized he was mirroring her, potentially setting himself up to end on the wrong foot.
“Right step, half turn, right step, right step,” Farrald called.
Dan tried to follow, but it meant he had to turn away from Amiria, as each dancer took a right step, then stepped and pivoted to face the opposite direction, then stepped right, together, right, together again. He floundered, finding himself face-to-face with Flycke, the Mersea privateer. Her lips quirked in barely suppressed amusement as she reached for his hands. He took them reluctantly, noting how different her grip felt from Amiria’s – stronger, almost challenging.
As Farrald began counting again, the great hall’s doors creaked open. Dan glanced sideways, breaking step. Flycke’s boot found his toe, and he bit back a curse.
“Clumsy on the dance floor as well as in the practice yard,” Flycke said, her voice carrying a hint of the sea’s salt-edge.
Dan’s attention remained fixed on the doorway, the Dark Blade’s energy suddenly more pronounced against his side. Flycke followed his gaze and stopped moving, as did he.
The pattern of the dance dissolved as others turned to look, leaving Farrald’s count hanging in the air.
Watch Guard Terese stood in the entrance, her black uniform bearing the healer’s green swatch on the shoulder. Unlike her usual calm demeanor, concern etched lines around her eyes as she surveyed the room. Dan had only seen that expression twice before: when examining his Dark Blade, and when treating Stelia, the Drinaii deserter now under Shepherd Jordan’s care in Skycliff.
The thought of Stelia brought an unbidden warmth to his chest, and he quickly pushed it aside, aware of Amiria’s presence across the room. The Dark Blade seemed to pulse in response to his conflicted emotions, a reminder of duties that might not leave room for such feelings.
“Apprentices.” Terese’s voice carried an unusual gravity that made the blade at Dan’s hip feel heavier. “The Watch Guard Captain summons you to his office, directly. All of you.” Her tone held something darker than her typical professional manner – something that made Dan’s hand instinctively drift toward the Dark Blade’s hilt.
As the group moved to follow Terese, Dan caught Amiria’s questioning glance. The warmth of their dance lingered between them, but the weight of his responsibilities pressed more urgently with each step. Whatever awaited them in the Captain’s office, Dan suspected it would test more than just their dancing skills.