“I walk down the steps of the verandah towards her and with shaking hands she holds my face between them, sobbing, "Look at my beautiful girl.”

“The music department is going to do a musical next year," he tells me, rolling his eyes like I would.Justine is running toward me, and I can tell by the look on her face that she's found out about the musical, too.I sigh, shaking my head. "I have to give Justine a lesson in holding back," I tell him. "She's just way too enthusiastic".She grabs my arms in excitement. "We're doing Les Mis."I scream hysterically, clutching her as we jump up and down.”

“I stand up and walk towards her because my days of waiting for more are over. If I want more, I need to go and get it, demand it, take hold of it with all my might, and do the best I can with it.”

“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.”

“Hold my hand because I might disappear.”

“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.”

“Near the window, Finnikin stood with both hands against the wall, his head bent over her. As always, the intimacy between them made Froi ache."I promise you," Finnikin said. "I've already shouted at her and used a very, very reprimanding tone.""I was quivering," the Queen said, stepping out from behind Finnikin.”