You told me love was fickle and fleeting.

Old stories have a habit of being told and retold and changed. Each subsequent storyteller puts his or her mark upon it. Whatever truth the story once had is buried in bias and embellishment. The reasons do not matter as much as the story itself.

“Nothing's impossible,” Poppet responds. She smiles at him and jumps, her red hair trailing out behind her as she falls.

Most maidens are perfectly capable of rescuing themselves in my experience, at least the ones worth something, in any case.

I made a wish on this tree years ago," Marco says. "What did you wish for?" Bailey asks. Marco leans forward and whispers in Bailey's ear. "I wished for her.

The truest tales require time and familiarity to become what they are.

I think I get some of my love of adult books that can be fun from Douglas Adams.