Tell me a story then...keep me occupied." "A story?...What makes you think I can tell a story?" "Insight," said the king, "Go on.
Megan Whalen TurnerIt made Costis wonder for the first time just how much the stoic man really wants to hide when he unsuccessfully pretends not to be in pain.
Megan Whalen TurnerDiscretion prevented me from saying that I thought she was a fiend from the underworld and that mountain lions couldn't force me to enter her service.
Megan Whalen TurnerThat is ridiculous," she said. The king agreed. "Like falling in love with a landslide. Only you could fail to notice.
Megan Whalen TurnerPlease," he whispered. His voice was low but clear. "Don't hurt me anymore." Attolia recoiled. Once, as a child, she'd thrown her slipper in a rage and had knocked an amphora of oil from its pedestal. The amphora had been a favorite of hers. It had smashed, and the scent of the hair oil inside had lingered for days. She remembered the scent still, though she didn't know what in the stinking cell had brought it to mind.
Megan Whalen TurnerSafety is an illusion, Costis. A Thief might fall at any time, and eventually the day must come when the god will let him. Whether I am on a rafter three stories up or on a staircase three steps up, I am in my god's hands. He will keep me safe, or he will not, here or on the stairs.
Megan Whalen Turner