To believe in anything takes risk,” Arpien said. “Perhaps the risk of disappointed hopes is greater than the reward of fulfilled ones.

His princess was dusty. Arpien should have expected that. Anything lying undisturbed for a hundred years would gather dust. He’d crossed the ocean to find the right sword for this venture, but neglected to pack a feather duster.

Brierly, if we fight without hope, we’re defeated before we start.

Nissa Montaine was not cunning, but she was studious. She’d been known to read the same book over again dozens of times and comb the nuances from it.

Arpien didn't like tears. On the few occasions he'd tried to ease a maiden's tears, she inexplicably started producing more. How to fix this? He assumed the Sixth Stance of Deep Mourning and flourished the Bow of Esteemed Members of Foreign Nation States. "My condolences on the loss of your-" "Pickle?" She offered him one from the clay crock.

Brierly, if we fight without hope, we're defeated before we start.

She was struck again by the unlikely vibrancy of the color brown.

He looked foolish and noble and vulnerable and battle-hardened all at once. As though every wound, every mistake, had been healed but not erased. Brierly had immortalized every scar in gold. Was that how she saw him? If so, how could he do less than return the courtesy?

His princess was dusty. Arpien should have expected that. Anything lying undisturbed for a hundred years would gather dust. He'd crossed the ocean to find the right sword for this venture, but neglected to pack a feather duster.

Arpien cleared his throat, removed his cap, and pressed his palms together in the Fifth Stance of Bereavement for Distant Relatives and Especially Good Cooks.