Megan Whalen Turner, The Thief

• "Surely I am a better mistress to serve?" "You are more beautiful, Your Majesty." The queen smiled again before I finished. "But she is more kind."
• Once the queen saw us, she dropped her hand. "Oh," she said in irritation and perfect understanding. "It's you, Eugenides."

Megan Whalen Turner, The Queen of Attolia

• He looked at her and tilted his head very slightly in wonder. He had forgotten, as he always forgot, how beautiful she was. ... Looking at her, Eugenides smiled.
• Attolia waited, sensing a trap. The moon disappeared behind a cloud. Eugenides was only a dark form against the darker water behind him. "Before you make a decision," he said, "I want you to know that I love you." Attolia laughed. Eugenides flushed in the dark. "I have been surrounded by liars all my life and never heard one lie like you," said Attolia, smiling. "It's the truth," Eugenides shrugged.
• He'd seen her in a pale dress dancing in the moonlight, pretending an entire troupe of dancers danced the harvest circle with her, her arms open to embrace the sisters and friends who existed only in her imagination, and he'd never seen anything so beautiful or so sad.
• Her legs were still wrapped in the blankets and she was just sitting up when Eugenides pushed the cloth away from the door and stepped into the tent. The lantern hanging in the tent had been left burning, and by its light she could see the sword unsheathed in his left hand. ... "What luck you have," he said, stepping toward her. She wouldn't cower. She lifted her chin as he crossed the tent toward her. When he reached her side, he did not raise the sword as she had expected. He bent down and kissed her briefly on the lips.
• He could tell her he loved her. He ached to shout it out loud for the gods and everyone to hear. Little good it would do. Better to trust in the moon's promises than the word of the Thief of Eddis. He was famous in three countries for his lies. Why should she believe anything he said, when he was standing with Mede swords at his throat.
• Looking up at her, with her face filling his field of vision, he stopped moving as if suddenly paralyzed. "Goatfoot," she said, "do you understand what is going to happen to you?" His mouth hung open, and he closed his eyes a moment, then opened them to go on staring at her. "Yes," he said at last, his voice breathy and hoarse.
• "What remains of his life, he spends with me, do you understand, messenger?" "I believe so, Your Majesty."
• "At any rate she won't have Thief back," Attolia murmured, wrapping herself in her robe and sittin back down."
• "You are a woman," Nahusuresh said very gently. "You do not understand the world of kings and emperors, you do not understand the nature of their gifts." "Nahusuresh, if there is one thing a woman understands, it is the nature of gifts. They are bribes when threats will not avail."
• "Treachery," said the Mede. "Diplomacy," said Attolia, "in my own name."
• Eddis took note of the expression, amused to have found at least, she was certain, the original of the look Eugenides had copied. She smiled. Attolia hesitated, then smiled herself, very briefly. In her expression Eddis saw some hope for her Thief, and her heart lightened.
• "And your ambassador?" Attolia uncharacterically said the first thing that came to mind. "He sharpens his beard into points like a fork," she said of her ambassador, "and uses cheap hair oil." "Well, that certainly is frank on your part," said Eddis, laughing. "I had thought you were fond of him." "So did he," said Attolia dryly.
• "Oh, yes," said Eddis. "I'm always willing to forgive him anything -- until he wakes up." She leaned down and poked him again.
• He looked back, his gaze a little sharper, and said, "You forgot me."
• "No," said Eugenides, looking sullenly at his feet. "I knew that I had to be king. I just didn't think about it." "All those clothes," Eddis said thoughtfully. "Ceremonies. Duties. Obligations." "People staring at me," Eugenides said, "all the time."
• Once the women had gone, she had pulled the flowers from her braids herself and thrown them to the floor, muttering, "Damn him, damn him, damn him," as each blossom dropped. ... Well, she might be fool enough to love him; she wasn't fool enough to believe he loved her. She'd seen the look in his father's eyes, and if she didn't see it in Eugenides's eyes, then he was better at hiding it that was all.
• "No," Eugenides said painfully. "And if she won't listen to me either. And if she won't listen to me, how can I tell her I love her?" "And if she won't listen, how can you lie to her?" Eddis asked. ... He dropped his eyes suddenly to look at Eddis. "I wasn't thinking of lying to her," he said.
• "Irene--" "Don't call me that." "You were the princess Irene the first time we met." "It means 'peace,'" Attolia said. "What name could be more inappropriate?" "That I be named Helen?" Eddis suggested. The hard lines in Attolia's face eased, and she smiled. Eddis was a far cry from the woman whose beauty had started a war.
• Attolia smiled. "You make him sound like more trouble than he is worth." "No," said Eddis thoughtfully. "Never more than he is worth."
• Eugenides stared at nothing, numb. If he felt anything, it was that he was falling through space, as all thieves fall when their god forsakes them.
• "Eugenides, no," Moira warned for the third time. "Yes!" screamed Eugenides, and the windows of the solarium shattered and the air was filled with broken glass. "Rare the man whose gods answer him," the queen of Attolia said dryly when an agitated household reported shattered windows throughout the palace.
• When everything was still, she bowed her head and spoke to the darkness. "Give him back to me," she said. ... There was no answer. She sat and waited.
• "Would you have your hand back, Eugenides? And lose Attolia? And see Attolia lost to the Mede?" ... "You have your answer, Little Thief." And she was gone.
• "Who am I, that you should love me?" "You are My Queen," said Eugenides. She sat perfectly still, looking at him without moving as his words dropped like water into dry earth. "Do you believe me?" he asked. "Yes," she answered. "Do you love me?" "Yes." "I love you." And she believed him.