“This book is entirely dedicated to my wife, Robin Sullivan.Some have asked how it is I write such strong women without resorting to putting swords in their hands. It is because of her.She is Arista.She is Thrace.She is Modina.She is Amilia.And she is my Gwen.This series has been a tribute to her.This is your book, Robin.I hope you don't mind that I put down in wordsHow wonderful life is while you're in the world.--ELTON JOHN, BERNIE TAUPIN”

“Wait a minute,” Hadrian said. “Was it a beat-up brown leather notebook?About this big?” He gestured with his hands.“Yes,” the Patriarch said.Arista looked back and forth between them. “How do you know that?”“I know it because I have lived in the Crown Tower,” the Patriarchsaid.“And you?” Arista looked at Hadrian, who hesitated.“Ha-ha! Of course, of course. I knew it!” Cosmos DeLur chuckled andclapped his hands together in single applause while smiling at Hadrian.“Such a wonderfully delightful rumor as that had to be true. That isan exquisite accomplishment.”“You stole it?” Arista asked.“Yes, he did,” the Patriarch declared.“Actually,” Hadrian said, “Royce and I did, but we put it back the next night.”

“Alric! Stop it!" Pickering snapped at him. "You mustn't let the men see you crying!"Fury flared in Alric, and he spun on the count. "No? No? Look at them! They are dying for me. They are dying on my order! I say they do have a right to see their king! They all have a right to see their king!"Alric wiped the tears from his cheeks and gathered his reins. "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of having my face put in the dirt! I won't stand it. I'm tired of being helpless. That's my city, built by my ancestors! If my people chose to fight, then, by Maribor, I want them to know it's me they fight!"The prince put on his helm, drew his father's large sword and spurred his horse forward, not at the trench but at the castle gate itself.”

“And now she has you seizing control of my army.”“Your army? I thought this was Gaunt’s.”“So did he.”

“She put her hand on his shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. She did not know what else to do. First her mother, then her father and Fanen, and finally Hilfred—they were all gone. Mauvin was slipping away as well. The boy who loved his sword more than Wintertide presents, sweet chocolate cake, or swimming on a hot day refused to touch it anymore. The eldest son of Count Pickering, who had once challenged the sun to a duel because it had rained on the day of a hunt, spent his days watching ducks.”

“Come for your revenge at last, elf?" Royce stepped forward. He looked down at Thranic and then around the room. "How could I top possibly top this? Sealed alive in a tomb of rock. My only regret is that I had nothing to do with it”

“A beautiful day might bring disaster, while a day that begins trapped inside an ancient toom, might be the best one of your life. If you don´t abandon hope on pleasent days, why do so on those that begin poorly?”