The Bird and the Sword

I have loved you every moment of every day, and I will love you until I cease to be. Bird, man, or king, I love you, and I will always love you.

Swallow Daughter, pull them in, those words that sit upon your lips. Lock them deep inside your soul, hide them 'til they've time to grow. Close your mouth upon the power, curse not, cure not, 'til the hour. You won't speak and you won't tell, you won't call on heav'n or hell. You will learn and you will thrive. Silence, daughter. Stay alive.

You glow, Lark.” His hand climbed back up again and swept over my unbound hair. I swallowed, suddenly close to tears. Then why does no one see me? “I see you,” he said.

Maybe the secret to happiness is simplicity.

For the word is quick and powerful Sharper than any two-edged sword Piercing even to the dividing asunder Of soul and spirit Of joints and marrow It is a discerner of the thoughts And intents of the heart

Suddenly yearning had a flavor. It tasted like a king, a beautiful, frightening, infuriating man who flew into my life and began to free my words.

I think I will keep you,

Every second I am a bird, I long to be a man. For you. For me. For the child I was so desperate to create. Not for Jeru. For us. You said I choose you because you are of use to me. And I did. But know this, Lark. I have loved you every moment of every day, and I will love you until i cease to be. Bird, man, or king, I love you, and I will always love you

You don't need wings to fly.

I have all the power, but you will destroy me.

The world is alive with words

You don't need wings to fly, she chirped. What do you need, Daughter? I asked softly. She looked up at me, her big, black eyes alight with knowledge, and she smiled. Words.

I didn’t want to be taken care of. I wanted to run away from all the men who sought dominion over me, who thought they could own me, imprison me, use me, cut me.

Kjell is right. You are a dangerous little bird. But I think I will keep you.

She was my little lark. The name had entered my mind the moment I laid eyes on her,

When I touch you, I cease to be.

But the voices of fear and discontent are always the loudest...

You are easy to overlook. Slim and pale and so quiet. But now that I’ve studied your soft grey eyes and traced the fine bones of your face, now that I’ve kissed your pale pink mouth, I don’t want to look anywhere else. My gaze is continually drawn back to you.

You chose me because I am of use. But I chose you because I wanted you. All I ever wanted was for you to love me in return. He

I missed him with an intensity that made his absence painful and his return a celebration. In the dark or the light, in the great hall or in our bedchamber, he was gruff but gentle, arrogant yet attentive, and he made love with a ferocity and focus that made it impossible not to bend myself to his will, even as I found ways to challenge and defy him.

I definitely wasn’t cold. I was liquid heat. I was terror and curiosity and denial disguised as indifference.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

The world is alive with words. The animals, the trees, the grass, and the birds hum with their own words. “Life,” they say. “Air,” they breathe. “Heat,” they hum. The birds call “Fly, fly!” and the leaves wave them onward, uncurling as they whisper “grow, grow.

Words can be terrible when the truth is unwelcome.

If I didn’t look too closely, I wouldn’t see that Tiras wasn’t there. If I didn’t breathe too deeply, I wouldn’t feel the hollow echo in my empty chest. If I didn’t move too quickly, I wouldn’t reach any painful conclusions. And if I didn’t listen, I wouldn’t hear the silence he always left behind.

I intend to keep her close by, to keep her next to me at all times. She will drink from my cup and eat from my plate to protect me from your poisons. She will sleep beneath me and hover over me and never leave my side. In fact, I leave in three days for Kilmorda, and she is coming with me. She will ride in front of me, astride my horse, clinging to me as I go into battle, a human shield against those you send against me.

The words had risen from his skin even when he wasn’t speaking, and I had called them to me, collecting them like falling leaves, pressing them between the heavy pages of my memory so I could keep them.

Volgar birdmen, hear my cry, Jeru’s burning, you will die. Close your wings and bow your heads, Every living birdman, dead.

Go now and do no harm.