At the Feet of the Sun (Lays of the Hearth-Fire, #2)

by Victoria Goddard

At least no one could see him smiling like a lovesick teenager.

(He’d never been a lovesick teenager. He’d only mooned over Fitzroy Angursell’s poetry and the love Elonoa’a bore for Aurelius Magnus, and sworn that one day he would have a fanoa of his own. And—inconceivable fact—he did.)

“Well … I was thinking how I really liked learning the Lays from you,” Clio began.

“Uncle Kip, I have been thinking while you were gone,” he said again, as if it were a rehearsed speech, “and I would very much like to sit at your feet and learn to be tanà.”

i love him dearly

for Cliopher to come downstairs with the tiarë behind his right ear, another efela around his neck, the light of Sky Ocean still clinging, just a little, to him.

“Kip.” Fitzroy looked him up and down, frankly appreciative,

yeah man he thinks ur hot!

Fitzroy took a deep breath. “And a statement of something I have never quite dared say in its full simplicity before, which is that I love you.”

Before Cliopher could say anything—before Cliopher could do anything—Fitzroy tugged off his signet ring and placed it on the palm of Cliopher’s hand.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Thank you’ will be quite sufficient, my dear Kip. Seeing as you’ve already done all the hard work of taking down the empire and creating a home for me.”

“Is it my turn to take the lead on that, or yours?” Fitzroy asked solicitously, and while Cliopher was still laughing, tugged him down the stairs to the green, into a space that conveniently—one might even say serendipitously—opened up for them.

and a splendid phrase about iconoclasm they kindly permitted me to use.

hahaha that is a great line

(Common and Ordinary Goods is the provisional title),

ohhhhh that’s sexy asfffff