And the kings were no better to their own people than they were to each others.

Everyone wants a bit of something beautiful." Clara said. "Among the wealthy it's the rare skins and furs sold on the black market. With everyone else it's whatever they find clogging the gutters or killed in the housetraps. It al amounts to the same thing, of course, but the rich people feel better knowing they've paid a fortune.

...that's how memory works ... Things disappear without your permission, then come back again without your permission.

In the end, Leck should have stuck to his lies. For it was the truth he almost told that killed him.

If we're to be judged by our parents and grandparents, then we all may as well impale ourselves upon jagged bits of rock.

Normal. She wasn't normal. A girl Graced with killing, a royal thug? A girl who didn't want the husbands Randa pushed on her, perfectly handsome and thoughtful men, a girl who panicked at the thought of a baby at her breast, or clinging to her ankles.

As he left to answer the call, she heard him exclaiming in wonderment on the rise. "Rocks, Nash. Is that a river mare out there? Do you see her? Have you ever laid eyes on a more gorgeous creature?