“They are surely gods who speak to himWith steady voicesA glance from him drives men to theirkneesHis sigh brings cities to ruinI wonder if he dreams of surrenderOn a bed of white flowersOr is that the mistaken hopeOf every would-be conqueror?The world was not made for beauty likehis.”

“He wasn't sure how it would be, butwhen Laurent saw who was beside him,he smiled, the expression alittle shy but completely genuine.Damen, who hadn't been expecting it,felt the single painful beat of his heart.He'd never thought Laurent could looklike that at anyone.”

“Father, I can beat him, he'd said, andhe'd ridden out and returned to a hero'swelcome, to have his armour stripped byservants, to have his father greet himwith pride. He remembered that night,all those nights, the galvanising power ofhis father's expansionist victories, theapprobation, as success flowed fromsuccess. He had not thought about theway it had played out on the other sideof the field. When this game began, Iwas younger.”

“Laurent wasn't loved. Laurent wasn't liked. Even among his own men, who would follow him off a cliff, there was the unequivocal consensus that Laurent was, as Orlant had once described him, a cast iron bitch, that it was a very bad idea to get on his bad side, and that as for his good side, he didn't have one.”

“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.”

“Let him come to Charcy, with his hithertos and his wherefores, and there he will find me, and with all the might of my kingdom I will scourge him from the field."And if you want a personal message," said Laurent, "You can tell my uncle boykiller that he can cut the head off every child from here to the capital. It won't make him into a king, it will simply mean he has no one left to fuck.”

“You can tell my uncle boykiller that he can cut the head off every child from here to the capital. It won't make him into a king, it will simply mean he has no one left to fuck.”