Kas & Heather: Part 1: To Be Named.

Kas & Heather.

Hey guys, so we have some amazing news for all of you! Silver is 1/3 of the way written! We're writing it in thirds, and we've just finished the first one. Un-edited, of course. It came out to be around 33,384 words. But, I would guess somewhere around 35,000-40,000 once its been edited.

I'm not so sure; I think completely edited, it may bee even more- but that's besides the point. It's really exciting, Silver is going great, and I know we both love it. I'm really glad we decided to write together again, and Kas even had the idea to integrate some of what we had in Ember, to Silver.
Man... We're getting awfully predictable with these names...
Anyway, Kas and I decided to give you all an excerpt. It would be more exciting- but the exciting bits will come with Part 2, and Part 3. But what we're showing you now, we've both agreed upon loving.
Now, it's not going to be perfect; but we did try to edit it. Let us know what you think!

Excerpt:

My silver sandals click loudly on the marble floor as I walk. I lick my lips nervously only to have my mouth filled with the bitter taste of rouge. I try to take a deep breath, but the bodice of the dress clings tightly to my waist and chest, restricting my air. The long skirts whirl around my legs, the mesh underneath them itching horribly against my skin. I stumble often, unable to watch the floor through my silver mask.

Sounds of music float through the air from below as I make my way towards the grand staircase that leads down into the ballroom. I clutch the railing tightly for balance as I begin down the steps, my free hand lifting the dress skirts out of the way.

The room is full of people. Most are already on the dance floor, twirling around each other in pairs, while the others sit at the long wooden tables that line the room, sipping honeyed wine or nibbling on expensive food. My gaze scans over the room, hoping for a familiar face, but then I realize that the masks are even more concealing than I had ever thought.

Stepping from the stairs, I walk tentatively towards one of the tables, and, picking a seat not surrounded by anyone, sit down. I can already feel the awkwardness creeping up on me. I try not to notice, but a couple down the table is staring at me intensely; whispering.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. “My lady,” I turn just in time to see the man in the brilliant red mask bow. “May I have this dance?” he extends his hand to me, his bright red hair showing in the back like a powerful flame.

Shocked, I nod; most men of the court have no interest in me, nor I they. He is young, as is shown by his soft voice and posture, but I cannot tell who he is. His hands are callused and strong against my own, which seem much too soft to even me, after my long hours of being primped and prodded by Arabelle and her sisters. He guides me to where the other couples dance; their attention fixated solely upon their partners. No one bothers to notice as we join them.

Once we are in the midst of the dancers, their bodies swirling around us, he places one hand on my waist, while the other remains in my own. I have to stretch a little, to place a hand on the shoulder of his scarlet tunic.

He is delicate with his movements, handling me as though I am a doll made out of the most fragile china. Normally, I would contest to being treated as such, but I can see the small smile on his lips, the faint glimmer in his eyes, and I find myself enjoying his presence too much to insult him.

The music drifts lightly around us, as he twirls me with his hand. I’m unable to hold in my laughter as I spin back to him and land pressed against his chest. Instead of pulling back however, I am enamoured with his soft brown gaze, and he mine.

Lost in his stare, I hardly notice the music end. When he steps away and bows again, I am thankful for the mask that hides my growing blush. While I may not be a lady, I’m not usually so promiscuous. “Your beauty is as radiant as the sun, your highness.” Confusion floods through me. Your highness? It’s then that I realize who it is he believes he was dancing with. Anger floods through me, misplaced, however, as this is the princess’s birthday. My mouth opens to tell him that I am indeed not the princess, when he leans forward again.

“Be warned though; things are not always as they seem. They are coming for you.” The words muddle my mind, and I forget about his mistake in my identity. I am frozen in my thoughts when a new voice sounds from behind me.

“Silver?” The new voice is deep, but soft, reminiscent of a warm summer day, and I know instantly it is Kingston. I don’t turn to him though; too caught up in my thoughts.

I glance down at my empty hands, before back up; searching for my cryptic partner. My heart is still beating at a sporadic pace. I have never known it to pound this way, threatening to break through my chest. The boy’s words echo in my mind- they are coming for you. Who- what- but most importantly, how did he know? I swallow; a lump grows in my throat as I realize I will probably never know.

A warm hand latches on to my arm and I jump. “Are you alright Silver?” Kingston asks, spinning me around to face him. “Who was that?” His light eyes are worried.

“That was,” I pause glancing to the men around us, but I know I will not find him again. “Just someone. I didn’t get his name.” King raises his eyebrows, frowning. “I’m fine.” My voice sounds frazzled, but otherwise normal. He still looks unconvinced. “Really.” I reassure him. “I’m fine.” This time I force a laugh, and he, though obviously not fully convinced, nods.

King’s gaze narrows as my stare meets his own, but he sighs. “Alright. Come on.”

Taking my hand, he leads me from the dance floor over to one of the tables. Everyone at this table seems to be occupied in some way or another, and we end up sitting beside a drunk looking man, and his date. They are too busy with each other to take any notice of us.

I roll my eyes, and turn my back to them. “Lovely view, isn’t it?” I mutter to Kingston, my cheeks flushing as he laughs loudly. The woman shoots him an angry look that quickly turns appraising, as she takes in his black slacks and the forest green tunic that matches his eyes. His blond hair stands at odd angles on top of his head, but it appears to be more endearing than messy. I notice the woman’s gaze linger on his strong shoulders; built up from years of training. This time, it is I who struggles to stifle my laughter.

King doesn’t seem to notice that the couple has stopped, the lady with her eyes locked upon him, and the man now glaring in our direction. “Don’t judge, Silver.” King says. “You have no idea what the effects of love can do to a person’s judgment.” Despite his attempt at lowering of his voice, the woman frowns, and quickly flees her seat, the man following in her wake.

Laughing, I ask, “Oh and you do? When have you ever been in love?” His eyes turn serious as they stare into mine. His mouth opens to respond but a voice, heavy and slurred from too much honeyed wine, cuts him off.

“My lady!” A short, pudgy man is bouncing on the ball of his heels behind us, his brow wet with sweat and the strong stench of alcohol on his breath. His face is half covered by a large black mask, feathers and beads adorning its surface. “I didn’t realize you had arrived! Those damned doormen, always slacking off. They should have announced you to the room!” He frowns, obviously annoyed.

I hold back my laughter. “I’m sorry, sir. Do I know you?”

"It is I, Sir Covington, of course.” He pulls his mask down, showing off his beady mud brown eyes, and crooked nose. “I was just speaking with your father about you, your highness; he says your studies in literatu-”

“Highness?” Kingston frowns, cutting the man off. “I’m afraid you have her mistaken, sir.”

The man turns to Kingston, seeming to only just realize he is here. He squints at him, trying, I guess, to decipher his identity.

My stomach flutters nervously. This man too, believes me to be the princess. My partner’s words echo once again through my mind. Things are not always as they seem. I turn away from Kingston and the drunken man, a strange feeling overtaking me. My breathing seems even more stifled than before as I take quick panting breaths.

“Silver?” King’s voice breaks into my mind and I look up at him. His eyes are filled with worry. Covington is behind him, his tiny eyes narrowed at me, alight with excitement. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I say. “It’s this dress, I can’t breathe.”

“Would you like me to alert your father, princess? I’m sure he could do someth-”

“She isn’t the princess!” Kingston voice is loud. Louder than what is acceptable in places like these. I can feel every gaze in the room falling upon us.

“Oh.” Confusion flits across Covington’s face as he turns away from us, muttering apologies and stumbling towards a crowd of people.

Sucking in a deep breath I look to King, whose eyes are glued to my face. “I’m fine, King.” I look back to Covington’s retreating form. “That was-”

But King interrupts, his worry stifled, amusement once more evident in his voice. “Hilarious. I don’t blame the poor man; you do look an awful lot like the poor princess did before her illness. It’s rather uncanny, really.” His fingers run over my mask, and briefly, I wonder if he plans to remove it. “Especially with the mask.”

“Oh shut up, King.” I pull my face back, and force out an awkward laugh.

“Dance with me?” I am about to chuckle, when I see the serious look come over his face.

“Oh.” I say, taken aback. “Sure.”

We stand and he takes my hand, leading me back out to the floor. His free arm circles my waist, pulling me so close to him my chest is pressed up against his own. I smile up at him. “Smooth.”

Kingston grins. “I am rather charming, aren’t I?” His hand moves to the small of my back as he leans forward, dipping me. Small strands of hair fall out of my diamond entwined bun, its curls spiralling towards the ground. I can’t help the happiness that overtakes my face as he brings me back up.

As we dance, time seems to stand still. We no longer need to speak, our bodies swaying to the rhythm of the soft music. I can understand now how the couples had danced for so long, seemingly oblivious to their extravagant surroundings. It was easy to get lost in a moment like this.

Kingston’s light, shaggy hair falls into his eyes and he flicks it back with a swift shake of the head. I see the tanned skin of his neck move as he swallows, before looking back to his face. He is staring at me now. “What?” I ask.

“Do you know how I figured out which girl was you earlier?” His hand reaches up, gently moving a stray piece of hair away from my face. “Your eyes. No one has eyes like yours, Silver.”

-K&H