“The choice is yours.Either way, I will be faultless. So ask yourself, would you rather take credit for an eyesore or for a work of art?"His speech complete, he sank onto the sofa, stretching his arms out across its back, a grin spreading across his face. I had not thought this through, that much was evident, but now that I had commenced it, I would not give n to him."You could change. More easily than could I.""True," he ackowledged with a chuckle. "But I look perfect.""Well,I'm sure you could look perfect in something else.""Oh,doubtless, but why duplicate what is perfect when one could improve what is not?"I wanted to kill him. I wanted to close that infuriatingly divine mouth once and for all, and if ending his life were the way to do it, I was willing to take that step.Instead, I took a deep breath and tried again."If I change, my hair will be ruined.""You know,dear, something really should be done about your hair in any case. I told you to wear it down. And mind you switch tiaras.""We're almost last as it is," blustered, trying to keep my tone civil, thought inside I was burning. "You could change more quickly.""Not necessarily.You already know the gown into which you will change. I would have to search for something less elegant to match the dress you have on, but still formal enough for the occasion. And honestly,have you ever seen me in anything that might go with sky blue?"I fell silent, for as much as I hated to admit it, he had a valid argument. He generally wore dark or rich colors, nothing similar to my gown. I despised myself for what I was about to do."I'll wait," Steldor said, accurately reading my expression.”

“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.”

“Images of him continued to plague me, unbidden and cruelly tantalising: the mesmerizing blue eyes that compelled me to share with him my most private fears; the feel of his thick, untidy hair as the sunlight split it into myriad shades of gold; the soft laugh that touched my soul; his aloof but unpretentious manner; his confident assurance that I could make my own choices. I shuddered at the thought of Steldor's attitude toward me, for he saw me as only a woman, relegated to supervising that household, planning and executing social events and raising the children. All he really wanted was my presence in his bed, which made me all the more unwilling to comply. Steldor's glance made me uncomfortable, his patronising laugh made me cringe, his condescension frequently led to my humiliation. In Narians arms, I had felt extraordinary happiness; in Steldor's I felt trapped.”

“I continued down the hallway, past the library, with my eyes downcast, not wanting to talk to anyone. So immersed was I in my misery that I recoiled at the sound of a male voice emanating from just a few paces in front of me. "I know feet are fascinating, Alera, but it's much more sensible to pay attention to where you're going."Steldor stood outside the door to our quarters wearing a cocky and irritating grin, and for the thousandth time that day, I felt myself turning crimson. I stared at him, struggling for a witty rejoinder but unable to produce one."Did you want something, my lord?" I finally asked, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace."I simply wanted to see my beautiful wife," he said, countenance still smug, although his eyes had softened and I suspected the compliment was sincere.”

“A silent challenge passed between the powerful men, to be interrupted by the Queen, who spoke but one word-the Cokyrian commander's name. He looked to her more quickly than I would have believed possible, and his demeaner changed along with his focus, becoming softer, more cooperative... Perhaps she had more influence than I thought.”

“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.”

“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.”