Angry men with pointy things sent to secure a foreign city are pretty much alike anywhere. That's what I've heard. So far nothing's convinced me different.

Why is it the songs all end with the good people winning, but in life they don't? They don't make songs when the good lose, I muttered. They make war chants against the bad. So there won't be any songs for us.

Finally someone takes me seriously enough to ask for my word of honor, and it’s a villain.

No, I don't think I could fall in love with him, handsome though he is, because I don't accept any of that huff he gives me about my great beauty and all that. I'd have to trust a man's words before I could love him. I think.

The only noise now was the rain, pattering softly with the magnificent indifference of nature for the tangled passions of humans.

When in doubt, be ridiculous.

Everyone is an idiot, I stated. Except me.

It would have been funny if I had been an observer and not a participant, an idea that gave me a disconcerting insight into gossip. As I walked beside the silent Tamara, I realized that despite how entertaining certain stories were, at the bottom of every item of gossip there was someone getting hurt.

Despite how entertaining certain stories were, at the bottom of every item of gossip there was someone getting hurt.

Because you showed one face to all the rest of the world, and another to me.

We'll abduct Garian. Or Jason. And—? And dump them into the ocean. Nobody would ever pay a ransom for them.

Why did I laugh at his sorry, bedraggled appearance? Because ridiculousness made a repellant situation more bearable.