I thought that being king meant I didn't have to kill people myself. I see know that was another misconception.

Calf love doesn't usually survive amputation, Your Majesty.

After one moment of gripped immobility, the queen bent to kiss the king lightly on one closed eyelid, then on the other. She said, 'I love your eyes.' She kissed him on either cheek, near the small lobe of his ear. 'I love your ears, and I love'-she paused as she kissed him gently on the lips-'every single one of your ridiculous lies.' The king opened his eyes and smiled at the queen in a companionship that was as unassailable as it was unfathomable.

No man can choose to serve only himself when he has something to offer his state. No one can put his own wishes above the needs of so many.

She's like a prisoner inside stone walls, and every day the walls get a little thicker, the doorways a little narrower.

Your Majesty, please get down. My friend Aris is really a very good man, and if you fall off that wall he's going to hang for it, and so will his squad, most of whom are also nice men, and though I can't say I really care if your attendants hang, there are probably many people that do care, and would you please, please get down?" The king looked at him, eyes narrowed. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that many words in a row. You sounded almost articulate.

The Lord of Rags and Tatters.