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245 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 26, 2017
Some would add, with needless cruelty, that the prince went unmourned, but those who claimed so had never, Petra knew, met Sir Eckhart.
Some people had eyes that chased you, pinned you, flattened you; these, though were eyes you tripped into.
You could tame fire, keep it docile in hearth or candle, but there was no taming lightning. The wild, ragged forks of it; the blinding cracks in the sky—that was the stuff of dragons.
People at night were like stars: bright but distant, self-contained.
Once upon a time, they said, as if they had not yet been born when the happenings transpired.
Once upon a time, they said, as if to turn the already-inexplicable truth into something even more mysterious.
Was death such that you could grieve for what you had left behind? If so, then yes, Petra would miss him—miss him dearly. He would miss so much: the sun against his skin, the background hum of bees and cicadas, the taste of water when he'd gone too long without a drink. He would miss picking fruit in the summer and finding the first green hints of spring in the last of the melting snow. He would miss waking on winter mornings to find foxes curled under the blankets with him for warmth and company.
'Here was love given freely, without expectation or condition.'