“The little queen all goldenFlew hissing at the sea.To stop each waveHer clutch to saveShe ventured bravely.As she attacked the sea in rageA holderman came nighAlong the sandFishnet in handAnd saw the queen midsky.He stared at her in wonderFor often he'd been toldThat such as sheCould never beWho hovered there, bright gold.He saw her plight and quicklyHe looked up the cliff he facedAnd saw a caveAbove the waveIn which her eggs he placed.The little queen all goldenUpon his shoulder stoodHer eyes all blueGlowed of her trueUndying gratitude.”

“Scuse me, lady, but I'm Wisp, 'cause that's all I am, a wisp of a thing, not much good for changing a thing in the world," said the boy for when he stepped inside, the light from the grimy window gave her a good view of his anxious, pointed little face.”

“He saw the Queen and saw her for the first time with the mask of friendship removed, a figure suddenly as ruthless and terrible as ever her father had been... All their dazzling intimacy was an illusion, a mere straw in the wind, for in the last resort he was but a subject, as her mother had been.”

“To cry was to release all sorts of ugly little pressures and tensions. Like waking out of a long, dark dream to a sun-filled day.”

“I grabbed her ankle and kissed it, and when I looked up I saw her chin and her eyelashes as she threw back her head and laughed.”

“The queen had passed him, so close he'd felt the stir of air, and he guessed that if she had turned her head, only a little, and met his eyes, he might have died right there.”

“And then he saw the tears begin to slide down her bruised face.“How badly are you hurt?” He should have checked her chart on the way in, but he'd wanted to get out of sight as quickly as possible.“Nothing interesting,” she said, sounding faintly disgruntled. “Just a sprained ankle and some bruises. It's my heart.”“Your heart?” he echoed, panicked. “Do you have internal injuries...?”“It's broken,” she said, soft, plaintive, the tears still sliding down her face.He muttered a curse. It was just the drugs talking, but he could feel his own heart twist inside. She lay in the middle of the wide hospital bed, but she was looking very small, and he simply climbed up beside her, pulling her into his arms with exquisite care, not wanting to hurt her any more.She let out a small sound, and for a moment he thought it was a cry of pain, but then she moved closer, putting her face against his shoulder, and he could feel her crying. “I missed you,” she said, her voice muffled.“I know.” He held her gently—she suddenly felt fragile, and he'd almost been too late.”