“Nothing's wrong, I'm just tired-perhaps a little sad." "You don't get sad unless something's wrong.”

“I don't think I've ever said this before, but it's time I did. I'm in love with you Narian.”

“You're not wearing that," he informed me. "Yes,I am.""No,you're not.""Yes,I am.""You'll look ridiculous.""I beg your pardon?" I said, affronted."There's nothing wrong with your dress, or the way it fits you," he clarified with a roll of his eyes, as if he were explaining the obvious to a simpleton. "But it just won't do.""And why not?""Your attire doesn't complement mine at all."This as entirely accurate and pleased me greatly. He wore black pants and an ivory shirt under a fitted gold-and-emerald-green doublet, an emsemble that made him appear annoyingly godlike, but which was very near horrendous next to sky blue."Then our garb will complement our personalities," I retorted.”

“It's not good, is it?"Galen's reply was convincingly nonchalant. "I've seen worse.""Yes-on a dead man."Galen averted his eyes for a moment before giving a reply. "Don't talk like that.""Sorry.""Don't apologize, either."Steldor gave a wry laugh. "Would you mind telling me what I am allowed to do?"Galen couldn't suppress a smirk, thought it was laced with sadness, as he recognized the beginning of one of their classic bickering contests."Sure-you can shut your trap."Steldor was smirking, too, then he grimaced, arching his back as unexpected pain shot through him, and new drops of sweat materialized on his forehead."Steldor-" Galen started, humor lost, reaching toward him with undetermined intent. Steldor smacked his hand away with as much vigor as he could muster."No," he growled, gritting his teeth. "Ignore it.I don't want to think about it."Galen nodded, thought he looked uneasy. "Just tell me what to do," he said in a small voice. "Tell me to shut my trap again.”

“Release my horse!" I ordered, infuriated with him and wary of both the large, energetic beast and its rider."No," Steldor snapped. "You're coming back with me."Gripping my reins, he permitted his stallion to move forward in the direction of the city, my mount obediently following. Unwilling to give in to him, I slid from my horse's back."I don't think I will return just yet, Your Majesty."With an exasperated sigh, he dismounted and strode toward me.As he did, he took in my preposterous appearance."What are you doing?" he demanded, stopping in his tracks. "You're out in the middle of nowhere, by yourself, dressed like a man and riding your father's horse! Have you gone mad, woman?" He continued to scrutinize me, and his incredulity transformed itself into a frown. "And just where did you get the belt and breeches?" As realizatin struck, he sarcastically added, "Just my luck that you would decide to get into my trousers when I wasn't there yo enjoy it."My cheeks burned at his crude comment, and had I been a little closer, I would likely have dealt him a second slap. At the same time, I knew his assessment was accurate."I was just going for a ride.I have the right to some fresh air," I asserted, hands upon my hips.Steldor gave a short, scathing laugh. "Not like this you don't.Now get on your horse.”

“I'm sorry, Cannan, but your niece is intolerable.""As are you.”

“Oh, my! I'm so sorry, my lord!" I apologised, my voice coated with sarcasm. "As hardy as I am, it's just impossible to catch myself when I trip.”