“Alexia had spent long hours wondering over that mustache. Werewolves did not grow hair, as they did not age. Where had it come from? Had he always had it? For how many centuries had his poor abused upper lip labored under the burden of such vegetation?”

“I did not grow up in poverty. But I did grow up with a poor boy's sense of longing, in my case not for what my family had never had, but for what we had had and lost.”

“Tina wondered how long it had taken Lockie to give up on his parents. How long had he shouted and screamed and hoped for rescue? Did he stop because of the beatings or did he stop because the uniform told him no one was looking for him.”

“Damen had half expected a gaudy parade costume, but Laurent had always defined himself against the opulence of the court. And he did not need gilt to be recognised under a parade standard, only the uncovered bright of his hair.”

“Hair grows out of moles, and for this reason I wish I had a row of moles above my upper lip. It’d be a molestache.”

“Sometimes, immersed in his books, there would come to him the awareness of all that he did not know, of all that he had not read; and the serenity for which he labored was shattered as he realized the little time he had in life to read so much, to learn what he had to know.”