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How typical of this Court for everyone else to act mad and then, when I’ve behaved in a perfectly reasonable manner, compel me to feel as if I were the mad one.
“Teddy,” Bitterblue said to him, “you told me before that you were writing a book of words and a book of truths. I would like to read your book of truths.” Teddy grinned again. “Truths are dangerous,” he said. “Then why are you writing them in a book?” “To catch them between the pages,” said Teddy, “and trap them before they disappear.” “If they’re dangerous, why not let them disappear?” “Because when truths disappear, they leave behind blank spaces, and that is also dangerous.”
“Don’t you dare use the memory of my mother to call on my mercy.”
And Bitterblue was lit up inside, just a little bit, with the magic of knowing she’d done a small thing right. Oh, to feel that way more often.
