And clay-caked clothes are so last year.

Oh, you made an impression. Like a stone caught in my boot.

Riley squinted. He ran his fingers along my neck. When he found the collar he explored the surface and tried to tug it. "No seams. It doesn't fell like metal. The colour is amazing". "Why?" (Trella) "It blends in. It matches your skin. Didn't you know?" (Riley) "No mirrors in my cell." (Trella) He gasped with mock horror. "So cruel! How did you ever survive?" (Riley)

I'd better get going or Valek will be wondering where I am." "Yes, by all means go. I noticed you and Valek have become close. Tell him, for me, not to kill anybody, will you?" Sarcasm rendered Rand's voice sharp. I lost control and slammed the oven door shut. It echoed in the quiet kitchen. "At least Valek has the decency to inform me when he's poisoning me.

In the war room, love? What if someone comes in?” I stood and removed his shirt. “Then they’ll have a good story to tell.” “Good?” He adopted the pretense of being offended. “Prove me wrong.

I peered deeper and found my soul. A little tattered and with some holes, but there all the same. It had always been there, I realized with shock.

You’ve only had a small glimpse of how insufferable and annoying I can be. As the older brother, it’s my birthright.