Don't expect much and you won't be disappointed.

But I don't want your throne." "Then what do you want?" "You.

Her clothes still smoked from the wizard’s assault. But to him, she always smelled of flowers.

And they always slept better with blades beneath their beds.

You do not respond to an attempt on your life with a slap on the hand. Or a joke.

Why aren't you dead?" Will demanded.

Crow walked toward her, arms outstretched like a man in a dream, which he was, in a way. Sometimes a dream is enough.