It wasn’t simply a question of parlors and tea trays – though there was that, too. If she were coming in reality he would be limited by reality. But dreams were a different matter. He was Strange the Dreamer. This was his realm, and there were no limits here.
And none of us became children to be orphans.
Her heart was gasping, empty. Whatever resistance had been in her, she gave it up. Her hands knew what they wanted: They wanted Akiva, the spark and heat of him. Even in the warmth of the Moroccan spring, she was cold, as if the only thing with a chance of warming her was him.
There were some piled furs in the corner, but they were gross and old, and Zuzana was pretty sure that a variety of otherworldly vermin were living out rich, multigenerational sagas in them.
Gods of math and physics,” she intoned, “I accept your gift of this clever, fair-haired boy.
Many fists against fewer, perhaps, but the fewer have magic.
He has gotten very tired of everyone thinking the worst of him. He has decided to actively encourage them to do so. It is his perverse notion of amusement, you see.
I think they both have to be lucky. It’s like, luck friction. One’s flint and one’s steel, striking together to make fire.
In spite of the tragedy in her childhood and the ever-present press of war, she had mostly considered herself happy. There was almost always something to take delight in, if you were trying.
So they layered cynicism atop their longing, and it was something like laying laughter over the darkness – self-preservation of an uglier stripe. And thus did they harden themselves, by choosing to meet hate with hate.
Karou loved Zuzana for her willingness to play out such silliness on a long kite string.
To have been granted so tiny a taste of the nectar of her mouth, and so brief a brush with the velvet of her lips was unspeakable cruelty. He felt set on fire.
She just kept it to herself, as she kept so many things to herself.
There was a sensations in his hearts, though, as a stirring of embers. There was fire in him. It wasn’t smothered, only banked, but it would burn like the wings of the seraphim before this was over.
One beat followed the sound, a single beat of stillness, and then chaos leapt in.
What she had shared with Akiva could not be touched by shame. Madrigal lifted her voice to say, “We dreamed together of the world remade.
I hope, child, but I don’t wish. There’s a difference.
The thing about having friends who are as close as blood, as true as your own heart, as the twins had been to her, is you don’t bother much with other people. And if you have the misfortune to get left behind, well, you’ve made yourself a lonely nest to live in.
He blushed, abashed. “I’m sorry.” “I’m going to impose a fine on apologies,” she said. “I didn’t like to mention it last night, but today is your new beginning. Ten silver every time you say you’re sorry.” Lazlo laughed, and had to bite his tongue before apologizing for apologizing. “It was trained into me,” he said. “I’m helpless.
Welcome to purgatory. Care for some soup?