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He was tall, handsome, sincere, broad-shouldered, slim-waisted, well turned out, and possessed of precisely the brains of a rutabaga; sadly, his cheekbones were the sharpest thing about him.
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“My own opinion,” Robert said tightly, “is that you have fiendishly set out to bore us to death. It’s working.” “Have mercy!” Prince Reginald chimed in. “Whatever you do to us, great wizard, we beg you—stop talking, and just get it over with.
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He covered her mouth before she could answer him. “Would I ever let you?” She bit his hand. Robert pulled his hand away and gaped at her, then at the blood. She had bitten him far harder than Adelise ever had, or even the new ice-white one, Marie-Galante. But her eyes were remarkably tranquil, as a dragon’s eyes could never have been. Her voice was a voice he had never heard before, as she said, “Robert, my one companion, love of my life forever, ‘let’ is not a word you will use to me again.”
