-"You won't like me if I'm cruel." -"I don't like you now." -"We don't lie." -"I'm mortal, Irial. I can lie all I want to.

He leaned back for a moment to tug her shirt down her arms, with the same wicked, lovley smile that had first stolen her breath years ago.

He didn't slam the door, didn't rage, didn't weep, he simply left.

You're an idiot," she whispered tearfully. Finally, he opened his eyes and stared up at her; by then, she had moved on to stroking his hair and crying. She sat beside him on the edge of the bed, trying very hard not to bump him or let her cold tears fall on his bare chest and arms. For a moment he blinked at her. Then he asked, "Are you dead too?

I want to say that I really appreciate that readers are willing to work with my tendency to write in several different genres and for different age groups.

...Bananach sits on your throne, has declared herself Dark Queen." "She WHAT!?" Niall- or perhaps Irial-asked.

A clear division between good and evil, right and wrong, would simplify everything, but life was rarely simple.