I did a research assignment on life in the Middle Ages only last year. I found the era fascinating, all that chivalry and court romance. But I never pictured anything as poor as this village. This is the pits. There's no romance here, definitely no chivary. And it stinks--of sweat and smoke and sewage.

The price for Jarrod's freedom is to be my imprisonment.

Not to know what happened before you were born is always to remain a child. For what is a man’s life if it is not linked with the life of future generations by memories of the past?

Isabel sends her brother a look that could boil him in oil if she had that particular paranormal talent. A thought hits me: maybe she has. It will be fun to find out.

He says, "I have loved you since the first moment I saw you. I wanted you then, and when I thought you didn't want me, I turned my love into hate." "Ethan..." Before I say another word his mouth comes down over mine and he kisses me.

The cottages are full of life. It's incredible to think they are filled with people who know nothing of computerised technology, nor even running water, sewage systems or electricity. And yet here they live. Surviving.

This wind is mystical yet tame, and it sings to me.