“He could tell her he loved her. He ached to shout it out loud for the gods and everyone to hear. Little good it would do. Better to trust in the moon's promises than in the word of the Thief of Eddis. He was famous in three countries for his lies.”

“He had told her he would love her forever, but he could not stay with her. From that time on, she couldn't see his glow or hear his voice in her head. Could he still hear her? Was he even aware of her existence?”

“He promised her that he would give her everything, everything she wanted, as men in love always do. And she trusted him despite herself, as women in love always do.”

“He also knew that whenever he recalled her kissing his cheek with such unqualified trust and acceptance, it was going to ache just a little in the vicinity of his heart.It ached now.”

“Trust ran both ways. How could he ask her to trust him when he hardly trusted her?He would trust her, in her love, in her strength, in her decency and fortitude.And when the time came, he would find the strength in himself.”

“Lauren,” he murmured.She looked up into his face, into his glazed eyes. Her lips parted to say something cutting, pithy, witty—God, anything would be better than nothing—when he leant toward her, those angry-sky eyes of his growing intense with clarity, and then his mouth was on hers.Lord, he still kisses…His tongue dipped past her lips, seeking and finding hers with little resistance. He tasted as good as he had fifteen years ago—toothpaste and coffee and him. He tasted as good. He smelt as good. He felt as good.”