If you have to hit--hit low.

You turned into a hero when I wasn't watching.

The fantasy that appeals most to people is the kind that's rooted thoroughly in somebody looking around a corner and thinking, 'What if I wandered into this writer's people here?' If you've done your job and made your people and your settings well enough, that adds an extra dimension that you can't buy.

At last Niko dropped his hands, and opened his eyes. His perfect tree illusion solidified and settled. "Very nice," said Briar with approval. "Couldn't have done better myself" "Couldn't do it at all yourself," muttered Tris. Briar ignored her. "But you'd never find a cork oak in these parts. Too cold." Niko looked down his nose at the boy. "I beg your pardon?" Briar shrugged. "Just thought I'd mention it." Niko glared.

Curse him for being all tight muscle, with ivory skin and a mouth as soft as rose petals. Curse him for having hair as fair as the sun, and eyes as black as night. Curse him for having the grace of a cat and deft, cool hands. And now I am having the same argument on paper that I have in my own head on too many nights. I know my choice is sensible, but it isn't my common sense I think with, those times Rosto's stolen a kiss from me.

Does your ma know you're this silly?" she demanded tartly. He nodded, comically sad. "The few gray hairs she has on her head are my doing. But" — with an exaggerated change of mood — "I send her plenty of money, so she can pay to have them dyed!" "I hope she beat you as a child," Onua grumbled.

"I am silly, now and then," Sandry admitted. "My mother said I was, anyway." "If you know, you can stop it." Carefully Daja placed a candle behind Trader Koma's image. "Then you've never been silly, or you'd know it just creeps up without any warning."