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— Megan Whalen Turner"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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She pulled the bedclothes up as far as they would go and suppressed a perverse wish to have her old nurse come to chase away the darkness, perverse because she didn't know if she wanted the shadows to be empty or not.
— Megan Whalen Turner
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That is ridiculous," she said. The king agreed. "Like falling in love with a landslide. Only you could fail to notice.
— Megan Whalen Turner
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