“No. Wait. I . . . wait."Damen stopped, and turned. Laurent'sgaze was edged with indecipherableemotion, and his jaw was setat a new angle. The silence stretched outfor such a long time that the words, whenthey came, were a shock.”

“Damen hadfound his gaze drawn to the easyarrangement of Laurent's limbs, thebalance of wrist on knee, the long, finelyarticulated bones. He had been aware ofa diffuse but growing tension, asensation almost like he was waiting . . .waiting for something, unsure what itwas. It was like being alone in a pit witha snake: the snake could relax, you couldnot.”

“He was not wearing the woollen cap. His newly minted hair was uncovered, and he looked as fresh as he had emerging from the baths the night before, as he had waking beneath Damen's hands. But he had resumed the cool restraint, his jacket laced, his expression disagreeable from the haughty profile to the intolerant blue eyes. 'You're alive,' Damen said, and the words came out on a rush of relief that made him feel weak. 'I'm alive,' said Laurent. They were gazing at one another. 'I wasn't sure you'd come back.' 'I came back,' said Damen.”

“He said, 'Damianos.'Before Damen could tell him to rise, he heard it again, echoed in another voice, and then another. It was passing over the gathered men in the courtyard, his name in tones of shock and of awe. The steward beside Nikandros was kneeling. And then four of the men in the front ranks. And then more, dozens of men, rank after rank of soldiers. And as Damen looked out, the army was dropping to its knees, until the courtyard was a sea of bowed heads, and silence replaced the murmur of voices, the words spoken over and over again. 'He lives. The King's son lives. Damianos.'”

“I'm sorry," said Damen.Laurent gave him a strange look. "Whywould you apologise to me?"He couldn't answer. Not with the truth.He said, "I didn't understand what beingKing meant to you.""What's that?""An end to fighting."Laurent's expression changed, the subtlesignifiers of shock imperfectlyrepressed, and Damen felt it in his ownbody, a new pull in his chest at the lookin Laurent's dark eyes.”

“I want you," said Damen."You've had me," said Laurent. "Twice.I can still feel the . . . sensation of it."Laurent shifted, just so. Damen buriedhis face in Laurent's neck and groaned,and there was laughter too, andsomething akin to happiness that hurt asit pushed at the inside of his chest."Stop it. You will not be able to walk,"said Damen."I'd welcome the chance to walk," saidLaurent. "I have to ride a horse.”

“He didn't reprimand Damen. He didn't seem particularly displeased with barbaric behavior, as long as it was directed outward. Like a man who enjoys owning an animal who will rake others with its claws but eat peacefully from his own hand, he was giving his pet a great deal of license.As a result, courtiers kept one eye on Damen, giving him a wide berth. Laurent used that to his advantage, using the propensity of courtiers to fall back in reaction to Damen's presence as a means of extricating himself smoothly from conversation.The third time this happened Damen said, 'Shall I make a face at the ones you don't like, or is it enough to just look like a barbarian?”