The Prince of Midnight

by Laura Kinsale

The hill town seemed to grow right up out of the top of the gorge and peer over into it, like an upended jumble of child’s blocks that managed by some miracle of balance and faith not to fall in.

To stand here and look at the place that had once echoed to her laughter—laughter he’d never heard himself—made him feel supremely alone, jealously solitary.

He stared at S.T. like a huge, sleepy toad staring at a fly.

“Don’t leave me to be what I’ll become without you.”