“One of the advantages a sister has when arguing with a brother is that she is under no obligation to be tactful. If she wishes to tell him that he is an idiot and ought to have his head examined, she can do so and, going further, can add that it is a thousand pities that no-one ever thought of smothering him with a pillow in his formative years.”

“She has her helmet, shield and sword. Does she finish him or take pity on the gutless thing before her?Does she set fire and smoke him out, forcing him to fight, or does she let him live with himself and take satisfaction from knowing that he has never been in a real fight in his life and that one day he will have to face his demons in person, along with the consequences, and that both can be far more painful than anything she could ever do to him.”

“Something she knew she did not have the right to ask him about. But she wished—oh, how shewished—that when he was ready to face his fears, she could be the one to help him.”

“A small fireball hit him in the face. He again looked at his sister, smoke still curling out from her human nostrils. "What brat?""I said she'll want to return to her men as soon as she can.""I know." His sister smiled up at him. "And will you be ready for that, idiot?""It's Lord Idiot to you." Fearghus rested his head on his crossed forearms. "And yes, brat. I will be.”

“The fact that he gave her was to him a proof, and ought to be one for her as well that she belonged to him: one can only give what belongs to you.”

“He is one of those who has had the wilderness for a pillow, and called a star his brother. Alone. But loneliness can be a communion.”