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War had insisted one could not refuse a royal visitor, nor indeed, turn off the lights and pretend to be abroad.
Iz had long ago decided to be flattered by the fact that she was usually not a client’s first choice. If a mystery could be unraveled by a quick trip to a basement—well, why not let someone else make the boring trek?
She had only agreed to his suggestion because she trusted he had an exit in mind. The daily mechanism of their marriage was powered by reflexive faith rather than constant reassurance.
“Ah, here we are! Smoked trout. Here’s your fruit of the ocean, your sip of the sea. Trout on toast points with triple cream—how does that sound?” “Essential!” Felivox boomed.
We do it because we can, because we have the stomach for it. Civilization is not carried on the backs of the squeamish.”
all wrought in service to the contemporary style that critics liked to describe as “lithe” or “sleek” or that most slippery of adjectives, “modern.” Isolde had always found the aesthetic impersonal and sterile. While her home could absorb clutter with aplomb, contemporary decor would be entirely spoiled by the presence of a dropped scarf or abandoned saucer. Its beauty relied upon its emptiness, and so followed its soul.
“Noble families are strange, Wilby. There are certain pressures that are hard to explain to someone who hasn’t grown up with them. Suffice it to say, the royal court is full of prisoners.
Some things could not be reasoned with. Her hair would always pursue its shape, and she would chase her answers.
Surely, discovering that one’s own self is delicious only increases your stock in the universe. I would prefer to believe that not only am I lithe, wise, and beautiful, but delectable as well! Who would want to walk around believing themselves to be a nasty nibble? I am delicious! Mushrooms are delicious! You are delicious!”
Warren wore the anguished expression of a man who had inadvertently set his own house on fire while trying to kill a spider,
