"I can't steal things without two hands," Eugenides said bitterly. "That's why she cut one off." The queen of… — Megan Whalen Turner
"I can't steal things without two hands," Eugenides said bitterly. "That's why she cut one off."
The queen of Attolia was only ever "she." The name Attolia rarely passed his lips, as if Eugenides couldn't bear the taste of the word in his mouth.
"There are a lot of things that a person with two hands couldn't steal," Eddis said.
"So?"
"Surely if it's impossible to steal them with two hands, it's no more impossible to steal them with one. Steal peace, Eugenides. Steal me some time."
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More from this book
Unable to guess the answer, she asked, "Who am I, that you should love me?"
"You are My Queen," said Eugenides. She sat perfectly still, looking at him without moving as his words dropped like water into dry earth.
"Do you believe me?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes."
"I love you."
And she believed him.
"I'll be your minister--"
"Of the exchequer? You'd rob me blind."
"I would never steal from you," he'd said hotly.
"Oh? Where is my tourmaline necklace? Where are my missing earrings?"
"That necklace was hideous. It was the only way to keep you from wearing it."
"My earrings?"
"What earrings?"
Eddis looked at her minister, curious. "Your head?" she asked.
Attolia explained. "He had to be forcibly dissuaded from strangling his son."
"So have we all from time to time," Eddis said seriously.
