I knew I would be in the story somewhere," Eugenides interjected. "Oh no," said Phresine, "This was a humble servant." "Ouch." "Though very courageous." "Not me," whispered Eugenides to his pillow.

Relius looked away. "He said that you...cried," he said softly. "But not that he cried as well," said the queen, amused at the memory. "We were very lachrymose... would you like to hear more romance of the evening? He told me the Guard should be reduced by half, and I threw an ink jar at his head." "Is that when he cried?" "He ducked," said Attolia dryly. "I had not pictured you for a fishwife." "Lo, the transforming power of love.

She was the stone-faced queen, then and ever after. She had needed the mask to rule, and she had been glad to have it. She wondered if Eugenides was glad of his.

One of us might be assassinated and then my heir will be king. Don't give up hope just because chances are slim." "For the assassination or the heir, your majesty?

What kind of man refers to himself as safely dead?

The queen!" someone shouted in alarm, and the King erupted like a wild animal caught in a snare.

Sometimes, if you want to change a man's mind, you have to change the mind of the man next to him first.