She allowed herself a thin smile is a writing prompt taken from Winter of the White Horde. The book is the standalone sequel to my middle grade (read that as aged 9 to 90 in terms of the small but enthusiastic fan base) Guardians of the Forest series. The section the prompt comes from is shown below.
This night was a new beginning, a rebirth. For twenty years she had nurtured the ashes of her magic, burned by that self-righteous king and his brat of a son.
Melda ground her teeth, reliving the humiliation. Skulking from the harbour at Etting – home to another enemy, one who betrayed his own father – having to ally herself with her enemy’s enemy.
She gazed, narrow-eyed, at the scruffy, greying ginger-haired man sitting on a rock by the fire, his slits of eyes narrowed further against the orange glare of the flames.
The uncouth, loud Madach, Captain Jarrow, had served her well over the years. He arranged their passage west across the oceans, and on land he acted as bodyguard, hunter and provider of rough shelter on their journey to the High Alps of Asfarlon.
Melda allowed herself a thin smile. Asfarlon. She was right to seek the deep caverns, known to her through ancient books studied in her former life as a respected Seer of the Sleih people. Here, she was certain, lay the means to restore her powers. Magic hung in the air. Tiny invisible particles faded over centuries, yet alive enough, and eager to respond to her summons. They were paltry summons in the first instances, nurtured by the magic which in turn fed on her remembered spells – and on her deep, desperate quest for revenge.
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Ahh, the wonders of magic. How lovely
Quite a bit of magic in these books!
SHE ALLOWED HERSELF A THIN SMILE
The storm raged as Teresa looked out the window at waves whipping the shore.
She allowed herself a thin smile.
Won’t be going anywhere in a hurry in this weather, she mused.
A loud banging startled her from her reverie. Someone was at the front door – but who could possibly be idiotic enough to brave such cyclonic conditions.
Teresa shuffled to answer. Opening it, she discovered a bedraggled young man, clothes saturated, water cascading off his bare head.
“What are you doing out in this weather, you silly young man,” Teresa couldn’t help herself. “You’d better come in and get out of those clothes before you catch your death.”
The young man took a few tentative steps into the comparative shelter of the hallway, water puddling on the flagstones.
“Sorry, ma’am. Got caught out unexpected, like,” he stammered. “I don’t have any other clothes, so I’d better keep these on.”
“It’s alright. You are about the same size as my late husband. I’ll just go fetch some from the wardrobe. Meantime, here’s a towel for you to dry yourself with.”
By the time Teresa returned with dry clothes, the young man had dried his hair and much of his body.
“Here you go,” she said. “Try these for size.”
The young man walked into the bathroom and emerged a few minutes later in her late husband’s clothes.
“Not too bad,” said Teresa. “Not too bad, at all.”
“Thanks,” responded the young man. “Much appreciated. By the way, my name is Stan.”
“And where do you live, Stan?” asked Teresa. “I haven’t seen you before.”
“Not far,” he said. ”Just in the village – at least my parents do. But I’m not there much because I am studying engineering at uni.”
“Who are your parents?” Teresa persisted.
“Bob and Rita McGovern,” Stan replied. “Perhaps you know them.”
“Not personally. But wasn’t that your sister who drowned three years ago during that terrible storm not unlike the one we are experiencing right now?”
Tears welled in Stan’s eyes.
“One and the same,” he replied, his voice croaking. “I was actually down on the beach at the spot where it all happened – today was the anniversary – when the weather suddenly changed and I got caught.”
“Oh, my poor boy,” said Teresa, giving him a comforting hug. “I am so sorry to hear that.”
Fate strikes again – almost!