Shit," she muttered. She'd heard the word from her guard many times, but only now did she understand the real use of profanity. That one word said exactly what she was feeling, said it better than a hundred other words could have done.

I need my own armor, and soon. A silly queen I'll look when I've been slowly flattened into a man."Mace grinned. "You wouldn't be the first queen of this kingdom to be mistaken for a king.

Kelsea didn't recognize the guard, but she knew his voice. After a moment she realized, bemused, that it was Dyer. He'd shaved his red beard."Dyer, is that your face under there?"Dyer flushed bright red. Pen snorted gleefully, and Kibb clapped Dyer on the back. "I told him, Lady...now we can see every time he blushes.

Good stitchery," Kelsea told him. "But it will scar anyway, won't it?"The Fetch nodded. "I'm not God, nor am I the queen's surgeon." He gave her a mocking bow. "But it won't fester, and you can tell people that you took the wound in battle.""Battle?""It was a battle getting all that armor off you, and I'll tell the world so."Kelsea smiled, put down the mirror, and turned to him.