Palace of Stone

My ma says a rock lasts forever, but people don’t, and that’s what makes them more precious.

No small thing, a bee's sting When it enters the heart Not so benign, the growing vine When it tears stone apart

The snow was too light to stay, the ground too warm to keep it. And the strange spring snow fell only in that golden moment of dawn, the turning of the page between night and day.

You forgot to cough!” he said. “Sorry.” She coughed. “Your sneakiness is dangerous. Next time that chisel will lodge itself in my head.” “Now, Peder, there’s plenty of stone around here for carving. No need to practice on your own face.” He stroked his chin. “You’re right, my jaw is already chiseled to perfection.” She agreed, but she felt too silly to say so aloud.

No matter that we could be beheaded for this,” said Esa. “Heads are overrated.” “Yes, they are so unfashionable,” said Miri, imitating an Aslandian accent. “This spring, ladies of style are wearing their feathers in their necks.

Listen to your second thought, or the third might be too late.

Words can fall hard like a boulder loosed from a cliff. Words can drift unnoticed like a weed seed on a breeze. Words can sing.

My ma says You can't unspill a stew." "She also says Undoing a wrong is greater than doing a right." "You know, Ma is very good at saying two things at once.

For one thing, everyone there is so clever. Do they think me dull? Perhaps I should assure them that our goats enjoyed listening to me for hours on end. I am certain their bleats meant "Do go on, Miri, darling. You are immensely entertaining." Your immensely entertaining sister, Miri

There was a burst of laughter so sudden Miri jumped to her feet in alarm. Bena and Liana had pushed Peder out of the bed and onto the floor. He in turn leaped on Liana's bed, clinging to it and laughing as the girls tugged at his ankles. "So, are you two betrothed?" Katar asked. "No," Miri said shortly "Ohh." Karter smirked, one eyebrow raised, and she looked altogether more like her old self. "It appears I stumbled upon a topic of conversation even more dangerous than revolution.

The army slew a thousand and showed little pity The king ordered fealty from the conquered city The prince charmed its people with words wise and witty And the queen sat on a couch, looking very pretty

You can be who you will,” he repeated. His voice softened. “And if you will have me, I will be the one beside you.

Katar," said Britta, "I thought you would want to stay with your friends from home while they were here, so I had your things moved from your room in the delegates' wing." "You can have my things brought in too," said Peder, throwing himself onto the nearest bed. He sighed as he sank into the soft mattress and rolled onto his side. "Um... I don't think boys are-" Britta began. "Don't you mind me!" Peder pulled a blanket over his head. Miri didn't know how he could even pretend to fall asleep. She could barely keep from pacing. "Don't worry, Britta," said Esa. "We'll kick him out before night. Off to your fancy apprenticeship, big brother." She nudged Peder's shape under the blanket. Peder made an exaggerated snoring noise.

Once she'd thought all the knowledge in the world was contained in the princess academy's thirteen books. Now she faced thousands. She wondered if she should curtsy as if she were entering a chapel.

So...did she just agree to sponsor the charter?" asked Katar. "I think so," Miri whispered. "You think so?"Katar grabbed the paper from Miri. "If I present this in session and the queen doesn't offer her sponsorship, 'I think so' isn't going to save my head." "Your head will be fine," said Miri. "It's your neck you should worry about.

She's as fetching as brown hair done up with ribbons blue The mountain, my lady She's as sweet as pink flowers made bright with morning dew, Mount Eskel, my lady

Do you know the feeling you get when you are awakened in the middle of a dream? The dream story is still real and full of color, but the waking world is rushing back into your mind. And for a moment both worlds are true, and you cannot quite tell them apart.

I am not sure I am ready to know what I think about that, so I dare not write it out.

When the mountain quaked Like an elbow's nudge Like a shout that something is wrong The people awoke and Knew, yes, knew, that bandits had come

Miri took genuine comfort in studying Mathematics that day. She could sort numbers into two simple ideas: true and not true. Unlike numbers, words were rarely just one thing. They moved and changed, camouflaging and leaping out unexpectedly. Words were slippery and alive; words wrestled out of her grip and became something new. Words were dangerous.

Goodness knows she is too fierce for you Goodness knows she has eyes for a lord Goodness knows she yet will prove untrue Her cheek's blush is as false as her word

Your head will be fine,” said Miri. “It’s your neck you should worry about.

We stand up for the farmers Who can't keep enough to eat We walk out for the workers Who don't know the taste of meat We run forward for the children With no shoes upon their feet We will march this kingdom down We will break the golden crown

Oh land of farms and green hills mild Once formed by giants rough and wild With massive paws they gripped and tore With one great rip they formed the shore Where heavy boots left prints so deep Blue lakes remain 'tween summits steep The giants fought beneath our skies And from their bones our mountains rise

A need, a need, a need have I A wish, a wish, a wish, I sigh

She wore white heirloom lace about her throat And in her hair a bright golden feather A pearl like a plum hung ripe from her neck But her smile fetched ten gold together

Once there was a queen in a palace of bread. Sing blue, sing white, stay up all night. She nibbled on the walls and gobbled up her bed. Sing white, sing blue, sing ballyhoo. The people begged a crumb from their robust queen. Sing blue, sing white, she ate all night. She would not share a thing until it turned green. So white, so blue, the mold it grew.

Tis I, my sweet, your rough-and-ready man Well hid by night to beg your fine white hand Though king of bandits, draped in chains of gold I'm poor in love and suffer grief untold

King Dan sat on his stallion fierce Swords did slice and spears did pierce But in a tree upon the field Perched a small, keen-eyed blackbird And the blackbird did not sing No, the blackbird did not sing

He is ever inglorious His laugh is laborious His smell is notorious Impale the herring king!