“Your H-Highness...," Michael stammered, "I-I wish I'd had a chance to prepare some remarks.”

“I do not know what happened with your parents or why they did what they did. But in all the world, I could have wished for no daughter but you.”

“He was crazy, Michael thought, but he appeared to be nice-crazy, and not I'll-kill-you-I'll-kill-you crazy.”

“When I had woken up the next morning, I'd stared at my ceiling for a good ten minutes, reliving the dream, committing it to memory...wishing it was real, wishing I could crawl back inside that dream and disappear--stay there forever.”

“He demanded I tell him all I knew. I refused. He threatened me. Still, I refused. He became irate. He screamed. He spat. He threw plates. Overturned tables. He punched his minister of culture.”

“Time, Kate was learning, was like a river. You might put up obstacles, even divert it briefly, but the river had a will of it's own. It wanted to flow a certain way. You had to force it to change. You had to be willing to sacrifice.”

“But I guess everything in life is a bit disappointing, isn't it?”