“Mordecai allowed a smile to play across his face. “I have little doubt this ploy will try your patience. You must present Sir Percival as a gallant knight well-versed in chivalry and a favored champion in the tourneys. Perhaps a bit of poetry would be in order as well.”Dante rolled his eyes and sighed. “I shall be the very picture of chivalrous drivel.”

“I thought you were a white knights who put great store in chivalry. It's not the least chivalrous of you to try to seduce me.”

“Aeron’s stone-faced expression cracked, as he turned to give me a dumbfounded look. Meeting his questioning eyes, I let out a little annoyed sigh, “I refuse to believe that you don’t know the meaning of ‘cojones’.”“I’m well aware of the meaning,” he raised his eyebrows, fighting back a smile. “Just a little surprised at your choice of words…”“Yeah, I can really paint a verbal picture,” I responded dryly.”

“Who do you think our champion will be today? Have you seen Mace Tyrell's boy? The Knight of Flowers, they call him. Now there's a son any man would be proud to own to. Last tourney, he dumped the Kingslayer on his golden rump, you ought to have seen the look on Cersei's face. I laughed till my sides hurt.”

“You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language.”

“I smiled: I thought to myself Mr. Rochester is peculiar — he seems to forget that he pays me £30 per annum for receiving his orders."The smile is very well," said he, catching instantly the passing expression; "but speak too.""I was thinking, sir, that very few masters would trouble themselves to inquire whether or not their paid subordinates were piqued and hurt by their orders.”