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The queen had passed him, so close he'd felt the stir of air, and he guessed that if she had turned her head, only a little, and met his eyes, he might have died right there.

Megan Whalen Turner

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Megan Whalen Turner
Age: 59
Born: 1965
Born: January 1
Novelist
Writer
Right
Close
Stir
Head
Queen
Eyes
Queens
Eye
Passed
Felt
Mets
Littles
Turned
Little
Air
Might
Died
Guessed

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Were you lying? I never lie, he said piously. About what? The sand, the snake. For a young man who never lied, he seemed surprisingly unoffended by the question.
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Anyone who can steal the king's seal ring can manage the locks on his record room.
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Because you do not believe? Oh, no, said Attolia bitterly. Because I believe and do not choose to worship.
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I was not so comfortable with my new authority that I could say 'We eat the chicken now!' but the magus had seen that I was considering it.
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If we truly trust no one, we cannot survive.
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All my life they had made choices for me, and I had resented it. Now the choice was mine, and once it was made, I would have no right to blame anyone else for the consequences. Loss of that privilege, to blame others, unexpectedly stung.
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All I wanted to do was lie in the dry grass with my feet in a ditch forever. I could be a convenient sort of milemarker, I thought. Get to the thief and you know you're halfway to Methana.
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If I am the pawn of the gods, it is because they know me so well, not because they make my mind up for me.
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Will there be poppy juice in it? Phresine shook her head. Good. My wife and I agreed that only my wine was to be poisoned.
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You're awake, he said. Phresine is not, pointed out the queen. Oh? You gave her lethium. She gave it to me first.
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The younger one looked to be completely useless.
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...That he'd seen...two people, a young man and a woman, sitting on invisible furniture with their feet up, reading books and eating chocolates.
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I can't leave her there all alone, surrounded by stone walls... She's too precious to give up.
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But there are other words for privacy and independence. They are isolation and loneliness.
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The queen was settling on the edge of the bed, ungainly with hesitation and at the same time exquisite in her grace, like a heron landing in a treetop.
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Her queen danced like a flame in the wind, and the mercurial king like the weight at the center of the earth.
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I was listening, the king said, aggrieved. I closed my eyes to listen better. What did you hear? I'm not sure, he said. That's why I was listening so closely. I may have to ask the baron to repeat some parts of his report on his grain tax. I am sure you can arrange an appointment. I am sure I can too.
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I think a good book is a good book forever. I don't think they get less good because times change.
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How do you know that, Philo, dear? But Philologos had had enough of being condescended to. Because, Lamion, I am not as dumb as you think I am, even if you are. By the time Lamion had parsed this to make sure that there was in fact an insult at the end of it, Hilarion had laid a restraining hand on his arm.
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In the afternoon, the king and queen sat to hear the business of their kingdom. At least, the queen sat to hear the business Costis was still not sure what the king was doing.
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