“Sword, I name thee Brisingr!And with a sound of rushing wind the blade burst into flame, an envelope of sapphire-blue fire writhing about the razor-sharp steel.”

“Blue fire ran along the blade. With the Goddess’s commanding pose and a flaming sword in hand, she resembled angel Uriel.”

“You named your sword Fire? Fire? What kind of a boring name is that? You might as well name your sword 'Blazing Blade' and be done with it. Fire indeed. Humph. Wouldn't you rather have a sword called Sheepbiter or Chrysanthemum Cleaver or something else with imagination?”

“It's there. The white rose among the dried flowers in the vase. Shriveled and fragile, but holding on to that unnatural perfection cultivated in Snows greenhouse. I grab the vase, stumble down to the kitchen, and throw its contents into the embers. As the flowers flare up, a burst of blue flame envelops the rose and devours it. Fire beats roses again.”

“And any hope Damen had that Laurentcould control this scene ended asLaurent's face shuttered, as his eyes wentcold, and with the sharp sound of steel,his sword came out of its sheath.”

“I want to be healed and whole and perfect again, like a misshapen slab of iron that comes out of the fire glowing, glittering, razor-sharp.”