“The Archangel." I murmured. looking back over my shoulder at the ride, which had started its next ascent."It means high-ranking angel." There was a definite smugness to his voice. "The higher up, the harder the fall.”

“The higher up, the harder the fall.”

“And his hair was free, no ponytail, no braid, the long thickness of it waved and curled down his back, over his shoulders and next to his face. I felt my lungs start burning. Holy freaking moly… my husband was hot!”

“Como un angel," I whisper."Is our game over?" she asks nervously."It's definitely over, querida. 'Cause what we're gonna do next is no game.”

“He said, 'Damianos.'Before Damen could tell him to rise, he heard it again, echoed in another voice, and then another. It was passing over the gathered men in the courtyard, his name in tones of shock and of awe. The steward beside Nikandros was kneeling. And then four of the men in the front ranks. And then more, dozens of men, rank after rank of soldiers. And as Damen looked out, the army was dropping to its knees, until the courtyard was a sea of bowed heads, and silence replaced the murmur of voices, the words spoken over and over again. 'He lives. The King's son lives. Damianos.'”

“Harder yet to get back up without tripping and falling all over again.”