Megan Whalen Turner: Herring

“Will there be poppy juice in it?"
Phresine shook her head.
"Good. My wife and I agreed that only my wine was to be poisoned.”

“You're awake," he said.
"Phresine is not," pointed out the queen.
"Oh?"
"You gave her lethium."
"She gave it to me first.”

“… her queen danced like a flame in the wind, and the mercurial king like the weight at the center of the earth…”

“Discretion prevented me from saying that I thought she was a fiend from the underworld and that mountain lions couldn't force me to enter her service.”

“She pulled the bedclothes up as far as they would go and suppressed a perverse wish to have her old nurse come to chase away the darkness, perverse because she didn't know if she wanted the shadows to be empty or not.”

“I can't leave her there all alone, surrounded by stone walls… She's too precious to give up.”

“Eddis looked at her minister, curious. “Your head?” she asked.
Attolia explained. “He had to be forcibly dissuaded from strangling his son.”
“So have we all from time to time,” Eddis said seriously.”

“The queen was settling on the edge of the bed, ungainly with hesitation and at the same time exquisite in her grace, like a heron landing in a treetop.”

“Today, she had yielded the sovereignty of her country to Eugenides, who had given up everything he had ever hoped for, to be her King.”

“You have heard the queen's advice. My gift is below. Would you wait to see it until you have decided what you will do with hers?”