43 Quotes About Captive-prince

All right. Give me some coin. I want to play that man at cards.’Laurent rose, leaning his weight against the table. Damen reached for the purse, then paused.‘Aren’t you supposed to earn gifts with service?’Laurent said, ‘Is there something you want?’His voice was sinuous with promise; his gaze was steady as a cat’s.

I don't have sleeves to carry handkerchiefs in,' said Damen. 'I wouldn't mind being given a knife.' 'Or a fork?' said Laurent.

The Regency,' said Laurent, addressing the troop, 'thought to take us outnumbered. It expected us to roll over without a fight.'Damen said: 'We will not let them cow us, subdue us or force us down. Ride hard. Don't stop to fight the front line. We are going to smash them open. We are here to fight for our Prince!'The cry rang out, For the Prince! The men gripped their swords, slammed their visors down, and the sound they made was a roar.

Red. Red, the colour of the Regency, scrawled over with the iconography of the border forts, growing, fluttering. These were the banners of Ravenel. Not only the banners, but men and riders, flowing over the hilltop like wine from an over-full cup, staining and darkening its slopes, and spreading.

The Akielon march into the fort was the flow of a single red stream, except that whereas water swirled and swelled, it was straight and unyielding.Their arms and legs were crudely bare, as if war was an act of flesh impacting on flesh. Their weapons were unadorned, as if they had brought only the essentials required for killing. Rows and rows of them, laid out with mathematical precision. The discipline of feet marching in unison was a display of power, and violence, and strength.

By this time, the camp was cleared, and the newly pitched tents looked like softly glowing globes, the light from lamps inside turning the tent skins to warm gold.

I lack," said Laurent, "the easy mannerisms that are usually shared with," you could see him pushing the words out, "a lover.""You lack the easy mannerisms that are usually shared with anyone," said Damen.

A golden prince was easy to love if you did not have to watch him picking wings off flies.

It was with a shock that he felt the touch of Laurent's fingers against the back of his wrist. [...] Laurent was shifting the fabric of his sleeve, sliding it back slightly to reveal the gold underneath, until the wrist cuff he had asked the blacksmith to leave on was exposed between them. 'Sentiment?' said Laurent.'Something like that.'Their eyes met and he could feel each beat of his heart. A few seconds of silence, a space that lengthened, until Laurent spoke.'You should give me the other.