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She liked time at the edges of things—the edge of the crowd, the edge of the pool, the edge of the wood—where all must pass but none quite belonged.
Even at three, she understood the danger of overhearing a hint that a king in his own hall was an oath-breaker: Never say the dangerous thing aloud.
“Men are afraid women will laugh at them. Women are afraid men will kill them.”
Hild did what she always did when she couldn’t influence a thing; she stopped thinking about it.
“You’re like a sharp bright piece broken from a star. Too sharp, too bright, sometimes, for your own good.”
And Hild, who was tired from talk talk talking, all the time talking, couldn’t bring her thoughts from behind her eyes to her mouth.
