. . . sitting up cross-legged and noting the light, how it fills the room in streams, etching out the shape of Zach recumbent, a bold coastline in a clarion sky. I drop anchor here, thinks Rachel. Anywhere here. You are my home, my horizon, my shore. How long is the coast of Britain?

She loves him so much. He is her native place.

Every phrase Aleksei uttered in Raphael's sister's presence sounding like bells, he could not help it, everything he said, a declaration of love!

I love your loins, that's all,' Rachel says quietly. 'And now I love the word itself, and how words change, I love that too. And all the parts of you, I love them. That's all. And I'm not sad,' she whispers, gasping a little at the shock of her own tears, hot and extravagant, tears that catch the light in her lashes before they drop and roll across Zach's thighs, sparkling capsules, kaleidoscopic, the flow dynamic.

I love you so much. Loved you so much.

Zachariah, mind the palace," Rachel told her beloved before bashing off across three times nine countries. "But DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT enter the lists. No fighting! No barney, mill, contest, set-to, turn-up, battle, match!

Zachariah, Zachariah. I've never been so long away. I never felt so much special pain. I never knew I loved you so much.

I do not understand you, I bang my head against you, but today I love you so much.

Away from Lev, she craves his need for her. When with him, it enervates. Why is that? She cannot help it. Nothing to be done. Only with her sister is she unfettered. Tasha never makes her think about it, the terrible stature of love. Its shape, size, weight, the long shadows it casts. With Tasha she never goes cold as stones in a river, as Lev will accuse. You are suddenly so cold! Cold as stones in a river! What have I done wrong? he complains. Nothing. Nothing, my darling.