How was it that Adrian Ivashkov, who never seemed to take anything seriously was the only one among these "responsible" people who paid attention to such small details? How was he the only one to really understand the magnitude of what I was feeling?

Honor, I thought. For real: the guardians should have taught it. Because I hadn't learned it.

We’re suckers for this, Sydney. Men. You’ve got me completely helpless right now. You’re so beautiful and alluring, and we guys can’t help ourselves. We fight wars for you, cajole you . . . and you put up with us. We have it easy here in bed.” She turned my face toward hers. “This wasn’t exactly difficult for me.” “But we still have it easy. You’re the strength, the pillars . . . our defenders, our children’s defenders.

I nodded. "Yup. What I did was tantamount to treason in their eyes." "I don't know what 'tantamount' means, but it sounds pretty serious.

You've always been my equal, Roza.

You guys didn't really think you could go off on a party weekend without me, did you? Especially here of all places—" He froze and it was one of those rare moments when Adrian Ivashkov was caught totally and completely off guard. "Did you know," he said slowly, "that Victor Dashkov is sitting on your bed?" "Yeah," I said. "It was kind of a shock to us too.

God,” I moaned. “Do they use that stuff as rocket fuel?” “No one made you keep drinking it.” “Hey, don’t get preachy. Besides, I had to be polite.” “Sure,” she said.