The King of Attolia (The Queen's Thief, #3)

by Megan Whalen Turner

He knew that when torture began, Truth, which had mattered very little to begin with, soon mattered not at all.

“Oh, the trip would be quicker than you think,” said the king, pleasantly. “Most of my male cousins are dead.”

The king lifted a hand to her cheek and kissed her. It was not a kiss between strangers, not even a kiss between a bride and a groom. It was a kiss between a man and his wife, and when it was over, the king closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the hollow of the queen’s shoulder, like a man seeking respite, like a man reaching home at the end of the day.

the queen bent to kiss the king lightly on one closed eyelid, then on the other. She said, “I love your eyes.” She kissed him on either cheek, near the small lobe of his ear. “I love your ears, and I love”—she paused as she kissed him gently on the lips—“every single one of your ridiculous lies.”

“He didn’t marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.”

“No man can choose to serve only himself when he has something to offer to his state. No one can put his own wishes above the needs of so many.”

“Sometimes, if you want to change a man’s mind, you change the mind of the man next to him first.”