“I’m off duty, cousin, which by Cadwaladr law means I can beat you ugly.”

“I’ve grown ridiculously fond of you, and I’m not sure I can ever forgive you for that.” -Rhona”

“I’m Queen Rhiannon, but you can call me Queen Rhiannon.”

“Gwenvael looked down at his body. Horrified, he sat up. “What is this? What’s happened to me?”“Calm down. It’ll heal quick enough, I’m sure.”“Heal? I’m hideous!”“You’re alive.”“Hideously alive!” He covered her face with his hands. “Don’t look at me! Look away!”“Stop it!” She pulled at his hands. “Have you lost your mind?”Gwenvael dropped back to the bed, turned his face toward the wall. “You know what this means, don’t you?”“Gwenvael—”“I’ll have to live alone, at the top of a castle somewhere. I’ll hide from the daylight and only come out at night.”“Please stop this.”“I’ll be alone but not for long because you’ll all want me more. You’ll lust for the beautiful warrior I once was and pity the hideous creature I’ve become. Most importantly, you’ll want to soothe my pain.” He looked at her again. “Don’t you want to soothe my pain? Right now? Without that dress on?”“No. I do not.”Dagmar tried to stand, and Gwenvael caught her hand, pulling her back down. “You can’t leave me. I’m tortured and brooding. You need to show me how much you adore me so I can learn to love myself again.”“You’ve never stopped loving yourself.”“Because I’m amazing.”

“Dagmar faced the Iron, quickly bowed her head. “King Gaius, I’m sorry about the confusion. I’m Dagmar Reinholdt, Vassal ofGarbhán Isle and Battle Lord—”“And my piece of ass!” Gwenvael announced from the other end of the table while he dropped into one of the chairs. “So keepyour grubby Sovereign claws off her.”

“It means she's amazing - and terrifying. Annwyl kills without question, rules with an iron fist, and has little patience for anyone. She can be cruel , she can be loving, she can be heartless, and she can care too much... I can't explain Annwyl”

“Normally, I’d lie and connive and do whatever necessary to make you take me into the south.”“But …”More tears began to flow. “But that thing …”“Thing? What thing?”“That thing … in one’s head … that tells you when something would be wrong to do. It won’t let me do it.”Feeling a sudden high level of annoyance, Gwenvael carefully asked, “Do you mean your … conscience?”Her tears turned into hysterical sobs, and she went down on her side, her head dropping into his lap.“Dagmar! Everyone has a conscience.”“I don’t!”“Of course you do.”“I’m a politician, Gwenvael! Of course, I don’t have a conscience. At least I didn’t. Now I’m cursed with one. And it’s your fault!”Somehow he knew that last bit would happen.”