Hetty gets off her feet
“Ach! Alred! We were just about to go down!”
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Conrad goes too far
“Shh! He’s coming!”
If anyone needed shushing it was Lord Cynewulf’s squirmy, self-important, ten-year-old self, but Conrad was too tense to say something ironic. Cynan was coming.
Cynan presses his point home
Alred swiped a little doll off the table and stuffed it into his armpit.
“What? Business, I assure you.”
Lasrua gives a pretty piece of advice
“Vash!” Lasrua mumbled. “You smell like…”
Her first dim memories of comfort and warmth crystallized into more troubling recollections. Stale smoke, muzzy with damp. Lor’s shoulder beneath her face—Lor’s coat, which she would feign a chill to borrow so she could strut about wrapped in its baggy folds. The smell of smoke had made her feel dangerous and wicked. But now she knew that Lor had been dangerous and wicked all along.
Leofric awaits his turn
Eadwyn dropped his crust onto the dirt and let his head fall back against the wall. “He’ll be asking for me next.”
Colban says goodbye
The sun had risen on Colban’s last morning in Dunfermline. Colban had seen it come up. He had hardly slept in days.
Harald's blood is put to the test
“Oh, lovely,” Kormak grumbled. “Leki’s here. At last we can get started.”
Lagman leaned forward in his chair and smirked up at him. “Now, now, I’m certain he came as soon as he could put his pants back on.”
Colban makes a harmless-crazy friend
The King of Scotland proved to be a very big man. A Highland bull brought to graze on lush pastures, his whopping frame was packed with muscle and sleeked over with fat. He looked the part of a legend—of a man whose name, like the secret names of fairies, was rarely pronounced above a whisper in Colban’s clan.
This was the man who had whacked off King Macbeth’s head with a single stroke of his sword and strangled King Lulach in the crook of his beefy arm. And worse: this was the man who had ordered Old Aed’s father beheaded before the eyes of his son, the lords of Scotland, and the clergy; and walked out spinning the bloody crown of Strathclyde around his hand like a toy.
Ogive meets the man of the midnight hour
“Yes?”
Ogive gasped and drew back her hand. She had scarcely finished rapping.
Alred does no dignity to the word
“It’s from Eirik, isn’t it?”
Sigefrith stopped, open-mouthed, in the middle of his word. He had not even said the letter had come from overseas. He had scarcely had the time to say “letter.”
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“There is worse than winter, my dear. There is nothing at all.”
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