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They say that the Elantrians are dead. That they are the deceased whose minds refuse to rest.
“Beneath all the bluster he’s very insecure.” “Most men are, dear,” Daora said.
Why, in the blessed name of Domi, she wondered, does everyone in this country feel so threatened by an assertive woman?
When you accept authority, you must be willing to take responsibility for it at all times—even when you don’t particularly feel like it.”
The problem with being clever, Sarene thought with a sigh, is that everyone assumes you’re always planning something.
Just because you’ve had misfortune in your past doesn’t mean you have to give up on your future.”
“Sule, the only time in the last three days I’ve seen you two apart is when one of you had to go to the privy. She’d be here now if I hadn’t snatched you when no one was looking.”
“Well,” Raoden said defensively, “she is my wife.”
Perhaps he had been spending a little too much time with Sarene. However, he didn’t feel a bit guilty.
Raoden wasn’t able to keep himself from remarking again at her beauty.
Two things helped him forget the pain of loss—Sarene and the Aons.
She hesitated, then she was in his arms, pulling close against his chest.
“My wife will be seriously annoyed if you don’t, ’Ene. She spent the last hour preparing a room for you.”
AT first Raoden stayed away from the library, because it reminded him of her. Then he found himself drawn back to it—because it reminded him of her.
“What if the earthquake came just before the Reod? It caused the crack to the south, and suddenly all of the Aons were invalid—they all needed an extra line to function. All of AonDor, and therefore Elantris, would have fallen immediately.”
Somehow, despite their short time together, she had recognized him when his best friends could not.
