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Commander! Sir! Wake up! Jack surfaced from sleep, wondering who the commander was and wishing he'd respond so he could go back to sleep - until he remembered that he was the commander.

Cinda Williams Chima

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Cinda Williams Chima
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Springfield
Ohio
Respond
Remembered
Wake
Surfaced
Wonder
Commander
Sleep
Commanders
Wish
Wishing
Back
Wondering
Jack

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One more thing: Linda, can you get to Canterbury and take over my Chaucerian Society? They're at Dovecote Hostelry in the old city. We're visiting all the scenes of the great murders. Tomorrow they want to see where Becket was killed. They're a bloodthirsty lot, it seems.
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Will you give the girl to me? she said. Will you let me try? He nodded, dizzy with relief. Please, Willo. Please. Save her. It doesn't matter...what happens to me.
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The time will come when you will be forced to make a choice,” Hanalea said. “When that time comes, choose love.
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I need to go to parties, Raisa mused, so I don't think so much.
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It was a peculiar marriage of interests- Lord Averill and Captain Byrne and Lord Bayar and Han Alister agreeing on anything was as rare as gold in Ragmarket.
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Han made no effort to put up a brave front. Most of the time he just screamed himself hoarse, though a couple of times he amused himself by screaming Fionas's name as if he were in the throes of passion. FEEE-OHHH-NAAA! Lord Bayar made him pay for that, but afterward, Fiona didn't come down anymore, which Han appreciated.
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Tears stung her eyes. She sank her knees next to the sleeping bench and gently raked strands of golden hair from him forehead. Don't you die. don't you dare. I forbid it. As if Han Alister had ever listened to anything she said.
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And it's not just a matter of you hurting me. I will hurt you too, even if I don't want to, I'm not the girl you think I am. And you will remember this conversation , and wish that you'd listened to me.
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But maybe it's better to go after something, and not get it, than to not even try.
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(A)ny time you buy weapons, or build an army, you begin to look for an excuse to use them. Plus, you pose more of a threat to others.
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A fiction writer is never entirely alone. Her characters are constantly whispering in her ear.
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