“She's as fetching as brown hair done up with ribbons blueThe mountain, my ladyShe's as sweet as pink flowers made bright with morning dew,Mount Eskel, my lady”

“She wore white heirloom lace about her throatAnd in her hair a bright golden featherA pearl like a plum hung ripe from her neckBut her smile fetched ten gold together”

“This morning, Tegus welcomed me again with an arm clasp and cheek touch. I wasn't startled this time, and I breathed in at his neck. How can I describe the scent of his skin? He smells something like cinnamon-- brown and dry and sweet and warm. Ancestors, is it wrong for me to imagine laying my head on his chest and closing my eyes and breathing in his smell?”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” said Geric, rubbing his arm. “But I failed to force an apology out of the offending goose.”

“Loan me your lace of yellow, sisterLend me your fine kid glovesTonight is the bridal ball, sisterTonight I'll meet my lovePresent me a sash of blue, sisterGift me a ribbon of whiteMy love awaits me below, sisterI am a bride tonight”

“Geric," she called.He turned back around."What kind of flowers were they?""I don't rightly know," he said. He made faltering gestures with his hands, forming their size and shape from the air. "They were yellow, and smallish, and had lots of petals.""Thank you," she said. "They were beautiful.”

“Careful with the accusations of insanity, oh my lady whose home is a tower with windows of brick, all for the sake of some skinny-ankled, laugh-prone boy of a khan.”