Taggle looked up at her, his amber eyes as deep as the loneliness Kate had felt before he became her friend.”The traditional thing,” he said slowly, “involves the river and a sack.
I am not sure I can.””Become sure,” said the cat, his eyes flashing green in the firelight. “Once you leap on a boar’s back, you can’t sheath your claws.
Often she dreamt she had two wings, and one was frightened, and one was happy.
Taggle was absorbed in the meat pie. ‘It’s covered in BREAD,’ he huffed. ‘What fool has covered MEAT with BREAD?
They hurried when they could, and dozed when they had to, hiding in tangles of bloodtwig and heartsease at the edge of the road.
The night was white-blind with fog, and Kate staggered over every stone and stumbled in every puddle, but she pushed on as fast as she could.
It’s true that when you read YA you rarely have to read about middle-aged men having affairs. Personally I consider that a plus.
At night the fog was thick and full of light, and sometimes voices.
Well. I am not afraid. But to protect you, Katerina, I will be discreet.” Plain Kate considered a cat’s idea of discretion, and was frightened.
I wished for impossible things. It was never going to have been a fairy tale for us. There are no fairy tales about two princesses.
You made tools of us. Have you never considered: the thing of a tool is that anyone may use it.
They’re gone. I let them chase me. I led them like a sunbeam and vanished like a shadow.
I’m not a cruel man. I mean, technically I’m not a man at all.