“All that effort,” he mused, “merely to avoid me. How gratifying.”

“There's a word for this in English," he mused, still soft. "I can't recall it. I've made you a...a fallen women. Yes?""Yes," I agreed, still smiling. "Thank you ever so much.""It's been entirely my pleasure," he said in Romanian, and I turned my face into his sleeve and began to laugh.”

“Trust you? Rue--trust you? You counterfeited your own death rather than wed me. You told me you'd rather die than stay in Darkfrith. I can't--I don't know how to fix that. I don't know how to mend it. Tell me." He took a step toward her. "Tell me, and I'll do it.”

“My dowry is thirty-five. A year.” His brows climbed. “You’re joking.” “I would never joke about money with a notorious thief. Just imagine, in a mere two years you’re at a profit.” “How I adore a woman who does mathematics in her head.”“I can forge signatures as well.” “Splendid. Exactly the bride I’ve been hoping for.”

“Lia: "You've changed your mind about wanting to marry me. You're afraid I'll burn down your home. Embarrass you in front of all the other city brutes."Zane: "I'm afraid," he said gently, "that you will burn down my heart.”

“I need to keep sharp. But when you're this damned close to me, all I think about is you. I think about your mouth, and I think about your breasts, and I think about your pink tongue and your legs wrapped around me. I think about touching you and you touching me--and then I look at you and you're giving me that look--yes, that one, just there, as if you want me to kiss you--please stop--" He exhaled on a hiss, tipping his head back against the wood and pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose.”

“I don’t know how these matters are supposed to go,” she said finally, in the dark. “I was raised amid mountains and the Milky Way. But it seems to me that if a lady tells a gentleman she is in love with him, even if she’s actually just a serf, he ought to either reciprocate the emotion or else leave the room.” “Oh? Is there not a third option? Perhaps, say, a thorough ravishment instead?” “That is hardly gentlemanly. And I don’t think you should call me Princess any longer, either. I’ll be a countess, I suppose.” “No, beloved. Remember? A king.” “I’ll settle for queen.”