“One of the men of the manor leans forward now. “What was it like to kiss such a lass?” There is a longing in his voice. This is more than lechery – those gathered here yearn for the touch of a woman tender and soft. I see in their faces an aching hunger for a woman’s grace, all her winsome ways.”
– Sinful Folk by Ned Hayes.
“What was your intent with this sparring of yours? To entice them? To entice me?” At his accusation, a hot flush of mortification floods my body, for I was not trying to entice anyone. I reach out and shove him— hard— surprised when he gives way. “If that is the case, then it is their fault and not mine. I wished only to keep my own skills honed.” I follow up with another shove, which he again allows. “Simply because your thoughts are base does not mean I must accept the taint you would lay at my feet.” And then, realizing he is no longer as guarded as he was, I sweep my leg wide, knocking his out from under him, satisfied when he lands flat on his back in the dirt.”
– Mortal Heart by Robin LaFevers.
“I think if they had not fought each other over me, Ferrakind and the Dead King, if either had his sole attention on me as I opened myself to their realms and let those places burst through me in such reckless abandon, I would have been claimed. Such powers can’t be mastered, not without cost, and that cost would seem to include losing all those reasons you wanted that strength for. And it is a sacrifice I would have paid in the moment, with the arms of thousands raised against me. In the end, my brothers, there is no price I will not pay to win this game of ours. No sacrifice too great that it will not be paid to stop another placing their will over mine.”
– King of Thorns by Mark Lawrence
“The years never seem to weigh on Brother Maical, as if his inability to count their passing protects him from their passage. He watches the world through calm grey eyes, broad-chested, thick-limbed. If no one told you that his thoughts rattle in an empty head, you might think Brother Maical as capable a rogue as rides among the Brothers. In battle though his hands grow clever, and you’d think him whole, until the din fades, the dying fall, and Maical wanders the field weeping.”
– The King of Thorns by Mark Lawrence