The witch-queen pulled her body from the horn, and, one hand gripping her wounded shoulder, the other holding… — Neil Gaiman
The witch-queen pulled her body from the horn, and, one hand gripping her wounded shoulder, the other holding her cleaver, she staggered to her feet.
Her eyes scanned the room, alighting on Tristran and the star huddled by the fire. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she lurched toward them, a cleaver in her hand and a smile upon her face.
"The burning golden heart of a star at peace is so much finer than the flickering heart of a little frightened star", she told them, her voice oddly calm and detached, coming, as it was, from that blood-bespattered face. "But even the heart of a star who is afraid and scared is better by far than no heart at all".
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More from this book
I ran from him. But he found me and bound me with an obligation, which binds my kind more securely than any chain ever could.
Every boy in the village was in love with Victoria Forester. And many a sedate gentleman, quietly married with grey in his beard, would stare at her as she walked down the street, becoming, for a few moments, a boy once more, in the spring of his years with a spring in his step.
"And if I brought you the fallen star?" asked Tristran lightly. "What would you give me? A kiss? Your hand in marriage?"
"Anything you desire", said Victoria, amused.
