“He was a god above her, powerful, beautiful, larger than life. The light brought out the latent gold of his hair. The shadows contoured the perfect form of his body. Light and shadows converged in his eyes, bright lust, dark anger, and something else. Something else entirely. She recognized it because she’d seen it in the mirror so many times: a bleak, austere loneliness.”

“She looked up at him and her face was pale and austere in the uplight and her eyes lost in their darkly shadowed hollows save only for the glint of them and he could see her throat move in the light and he saw in her face and in her figure something he'd not seen before and the name of that thing was sorrow.”

“She shivered as he left her to go to the fire, and find water and cloths. He leaned into the light, and brightness and shadows moved across his body. He was beautiful. She admired him, and he flashed a grin at her. Almost as beautiful as you are conceited, she thought at him, and he laughed out loud.”

“He wanted to tell her that he was inspired and vigilant and recklessly alone, that his body contained his unsteady heart and something else, something he felt but could not describe: porous and spiky, shifting with flecks of thought, with urge and memory; salted with brightness, flickerings of white and green and pale gold; something that loved stars because it was made of the same substance.”

“She stepped out from among their shifting confusion of lovely lights and shadows. A circle of grass, smooth as a lawn, met her eyes, with dark trees dancing all around it. And then --Oh Joy! For he was there: the huge Lion, shining white in the moonlight, with his huge black shadow underneath him.”

“Where are you going?" "You should go down and have supper. I'll take my lodging somewhere else." "But you can't leave me alone here. You're my husband." "They've no room for me!" "Then we both go!" She walked past Erik to open door and gently pressed it shut with her palms. He didn't resist. She recognized his anger, she could see it in his scowl. Even though the mask covered his face, she knew the contours of his flesh and knew his brows were knit and heavy above his eyes. She knew because he wouldn't look at her lest his anger spill out and slam against her like the back of his hand. How fragile his control! A battle rage inside him to pacify this darkness, to keep it from swallowing them both alive.”