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1 " His princess was dusty. "
― Sarah E. Morin , Waking Beauty
2 " Arpien cleared his throat, removed his cap, and pressed his palms together in the Fifth Stance of Bereavement for Distant Relatives and Especially Good Cooks. "
3 " His princess was dusty. Arpien should have expected that. Anything lying undisturbed for a hundred years would gather dust. He'd crossed the ocean to find the right sword for this venture, but neglected to pack a feather duster. "
4 " He looked foolish and noble and vulnerable and battle-hardened all at once. As though every wound, every mistake, had been healed but not erased. Brierly had immortalized every scar in gold. Was that how she saw him? If so, how could he do less than return the courtesy? "
5 " She was struck again by the unlikely vibrancy of the color brown. "
6 " Brierly, if we fight without hope, we're defeated before we start. "
7 " Arpien didn't like tears. On the few occasions he'd tried to ease a maiden's tears, she inexplicably started producing more. How to fix this? He assumed the Sixth Stance of Deep Mourning and flourished the Bow of Esteemed Members of Foreign Nation States. "My condolences on the loss of your-" "Pickle?" She offered him one from the clay crock. "
8 " To believe in anything takes risk," Arpien said. "Perhaps the risk of disappointed hopes is greater than the reward of fulfilled ones. "
9 " She sighed. "Well, there's nothing for it. You better come with me so I can keep an eye on you.""I thought I was keeping an eye on you?""Well, it can't hurt if I look back. "
10 " She’s still under a curse. And this one you cannot save her from, because she put her own self under it. "
11 " He jammed the sodden cap back on. The lumps of cloth clung to his skull like an overweight cat afraid of heights, and ruined the image of dignity. "
12 " Did you want to save me now or does later fit better into your schedule? "
13 " Invisible people see invisible things. "
14 " Nissa Montaine was not cunning, but she was studious. She’d been known to read the same book over again dozens of times and comb the nuances from it. "
15 " That’s what he reminded her of. Rock. She could see the Conquisani line in him, though his features were not so well-crafted as Cryndien’s or Arpien’s. He was not so tall, either. Broader. More muscle. A boulder. His eyes were set deep in his face, his stern brow set over them like a guard to discourage anyone from searching within. He reminded Nissa of a half-finished granite statue. Or a slightly depressed brown bear. "
16 " She’d had plenty of time to mould dream-Herren into the perfect man. But she’d never been able to finish the job of falling in love with him. It wasn’t just that Voracity periodically destroyed her favorite figment. It was that Herren, like the rag doll, had no choice in his actions. If she told him to capture the moon for her, he got a net and fished it out of the sky. If she wanted him to kiss her, he pressed his lips to hers as gently or urgently as she preferred. But it was a kiss without a spark, as self-referential as kissing a pillow. She could create her figments with any appearance, but she could not give them wills of their own. Without that, love was only the fondness the artist had for her favorite sketch. "
17 " There are as many versions of good as there are politicians. "
18 " For years he’d held before him the image of his lady in white. It was for that image he’d climbed mountains and gotten lost in caves and ruined his favorite shirt. Perhaps she’d turned out to be odd and distant, but he’d told himself that was not her fault. It hadn’t crushed the image of a maiden of surpassing virtue. Even her flaws were heroic flaws. She was unearthly, ingenious, insane, radiant. A goddess. Brierly wasn’t the only one who could create figments. "
19 " The lovely young lady in the mirror was not a stranger, nor was she Lady Overlooked. Once again, Brierly had found some essential core of her model and designed the whole dress around it. Brierly had gathered Nissa’s brown hair in a loose pile on top of her head, with a curl spilling over here and there. The comb secured a single rose just verging on full bloom. Nissa still looked short and sturdy but—endearingly so. A friendly elf. Youthful, but not childish. The dress flattered and concealed the correct curves. Not even Aunt Perturbance would mistake her for fifteen tonight. Nissa blushed–ith pleasure at her appearance, yes–but mainly that her childhood heroine would think so highly of her as to craft such a masterpiece. That she would know her so well as to reflect the true Nissa, but love her so well as to reflect the best possible Nissa. "
20 " His sister. Sweet. But a seventeen-year-old in a gorgeous new dress does not want to be told by any sort of prince, Rescuing or Regular, that she reminds him of his eleven-year-old sister. "
