Joscelin, is love supposed to make you feel like you’re sick and dying, and mad enough to hit someone and drunk with joy, and your heart’s a boulder n your chest trying to burst into a thousand pieces...
To my surprise, Joscelin rose. ‘Phedre-’ He began, then halted. Sitting below him, I watched him smile to himself, quiet and private. ‘Phedre yields with a willow’s grace,’ he said softly. ‘And endure...
By morning, Joscelin was resigned. You know, betimes I think you are a little mad, Imriel no Montreve, he said to me in the courtyard outside the stable, holding the Bastard's reins.You never said tha...