“All right, silent dark bear with angry frown, tell me more about your land.”He settled back down, picturing it. “I would tend to our land from the moment the sun rose to when it set and then you ...she would tend to me.”He laughed at her expression again. The world of exile camps and the Valley felt very far away, and he wanted to lie there forever.“Let me tell you about your bride,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows.“Both of you would cultivate the land. You would hold the plow, and she would walk alongside you with the ox, coaxing and singing it forward. A stick in her hand, of course, for she would need to keep both the ox and you in line.”“What would we...that is, my bride and I, grow?”“Wheat and barley.”“And marigolds.”Her nose crinkled questioningly.“I would pick them when they bloomed,” he said. “And when she called me home for supper, I’d place them in her hair and the contrast would take my breath away.”“How would she call you? From your cottage? Would she bellow, ‘Finnikin!’?”“I’d teach her the whistle. One for day and one for night.”“Ah, the whistle, of course. I’d forgotten the whistle.”

“I would pick them when they bloomed. And when she called me home for supper, I'd place them in her hair and the contrast would take my breath away.”

“Tell me about the farm," she pleaded as drops of blood began to appear on her hand. "The farm?""The farm that Finnikin the peasant would have lived on with his bride.""Evanjalin. That was her name. Did I mention that?"She laughed through a sob. "No, you didn't.""They would plant rows upon rows of wheat and barley, and each night they would sit under the stars to admire what they owned. Oh, and they would argue. She believes the money made would be better spent on a horse, and he believes they need a new barn. But then later they would forget all their anger and he would hold her fiercely and never let her go.""And he'd place marigolds in her hair?" she asked. He clasped her hands against his and watched her blood seep through the lines of his skin. "And he would love her until the day he died," he said.”

“How would you like it if I said to you, 'It kills me to say this, but you're actually a tiny bit beautiful?" he had asked, pissed off. She hadn't said anything then, which was rare for her. "Would you have been lying?" She said after a long silence. "Lying about what?" More quiet. "About me being a tiny bit beautiful.""Shit, yeah."-But later that night, he had sent her a message on MSN. Of course I was lying. The "tiny" bit part, anyway.”

“This hand says you spend the rest of your life with me," he said, holding out his left hand, "and this one says I spend the rest of my life with you. Choose."She bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. She took both of his hands in hers and he shuddered. "I will die protecting you," he says.There was a look of dismay on her face. "Just like a man of this kingdom, Finnikin. Talking of death, yours or mine, is not a good way to begin a-"Isaboe gave a small gasp when he leaned forward, his lips an inch away from hers. "I will die for you," he whispered.She cupped his face in her hands. "But promise me you'll live first. Because nothing we are about to do is going to be easy and I need you by my side.”

“Imagine who she would be if we unleashed her onto the world. I think she would rip the breath from all of us.”

“She made a sound of regret. ‘We come second, you and I, Luc-ien,’ she said. ‘Our allegiance is always to our kingdoms. Without that allegiance, our people would fall.’She placed her head back against his chest and he felt her tears. ‘This is not our time.’‘But that will never mean I love you less,’ he said.”