The time will come when you will be forced to make a choice,” Hanalea said. “When that time comes, choose love.

And it's not just a matter of you hurting me. I will hurt you too, even if I don't want to, I'm not the girl you think I am. And you will remember this conversation , and wish that you'd listened to me.

A fiction writer is never entirely alone. Her characters are constantly whispering in her ear.

Raisa felt relieved, yet oddly disappointed. She was the blooded princess heir, yet in servants' clothes she was apparently unrecognizable. In the stories, rulers had a natural presence about them that identified them as such, even dressed in rags. What's the nature of royalty, she wondered. Is it like a gown you put on that disappears when you take it off? Does anyone look beyond the finery? Could anyone in the queendom take her place, given the right accessories? If so, it was contrary to everything she'd ever been taught about bloodlines.

Just a rat, she repeated to herself. After all, there were rats in the palace. Human and otherwise. Could be worse.

History,' Mari muttered, as if she'd overheard his thoughts. 'Why do we need to know what happened before we were born?' 'So hopefully we get smarter and don't make the same mistakes again.

We may all end up dead, but we're sticking it to them in the meantime.