The world was made of miracles, unexpected earthquakes, storms that came from nowhere and might reshape a continent.

It's always been this way. There were rumors about me even before I was born. It's why my mother never calls me Sobachka. She says it makes me sound like a mongrel."
My heart gave a little pang at that. I'd been called plenty of names growing up.
"I like mongrels," I said. "They have cute floppy ears."
"My ears are very dignified.

I shouldn't have lost my temper that way. It just pricks his pride, makes him dig in his heels."
"So why did you?" I asked, genuinely curious. It was rare for Nikolai's emotions to get the best of him.
"I don't know," he said, shredding the leaf. "You got angry. I got angry. The room was too damn hot."
"I don't think that's it."
"Indigestion?" he offered.
"It's because you actually care about what happens to this country," I said. "The throne is just a prize to Vasily, something he wants to squabble over like a favorite toy, You're not like that. You'll make a good king."
Nikolai froze. "I…" For once, words seemed to have deserted him. Then a crooked, embarrassed smile crept across his face. It was a far cry from his usual self-assured grin. "Thank you," he said.
I sighed as we resumed our pace. "You're going to be insufferable now, aren't you?"
Nikolai laughed. "I'm already insufferable.

I have loved you all my life, Mal," I whispered through my tears. "There is no end to our story.

Sometimes when we find love we pretend it away, or ignore it, or tell ourselves we're imagining it. Because it's the most painful kind of hope there is. By indifference . By death.

A wise warrior learns from her mistakes.