And you? Did you find the doorknob?”
Hadrian picked up a jug and downed several swallows, drinking so quickly some of the water dripped down his chin. He poured some in his palm and rinsed his face, running his fingers through his hair.
“I didn’t even get close enough to see a door.”
“Well, look on the bright side”—Hadrian smiled—“at least you weren’t captured and condemned to death this time.”
“That’s the bright side?”
“What can I say? I’m a glass-half-full kinda guy.
Stichwörter: optimism
You don’t win battles with hate. Anger and hate can make you brave, make you strong, but they also make you stupid. You end up tripping over your own two feet.” (Hadrian)
Michael J. SullivanStichwörter: battles
Been meddling, have you?” Royce asked, looking around at the hive of activity.
“You must admit they didn’t have much in the way of a defense plan,”
Hadrian said, pausing to wipe the sweat from his forehead.
Royce smiled at him. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?
What’s going on?” Royce asked as throngs of people suddenly moved toward him from the field and the castle interior.
“I mentioned that you saw the thing and now they want to know what it looks like,” Hadrian explained. “What did you think? They were coming to lynch you?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a glass-half-empty kinda guy.”
“Half empty?” Hadrian chuckled. “Was there ever any drink in that glass?
Stichwörter: pessimism
There are still eight of us,” Guy pointed out. “Not exactly an even fight.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Mauvin said. “Sadly, there’s no one else here we can ask to join your side.”
Guy looked at Mauvin, then Hadrian, for a long moment as the men glared across the ash at each other. Then he nodded and lowered his blade. “Well, I can see I’ll have to report your misconduct to the archbishop.”
“Go ahead,” Hadrian said. “His body is buried with the rest of them just down the hillside.
She put her hand on his shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. She did not know what else to do. First her mother, then her father and Fanen, and finally Hilfred—they were all gone. Mauvin was slipping away as well. The boy who loved his sword more than Wintertide presents, sweet chocolate cake, or swimming on a hot day refused to touch it anymore. The eldest son of Count Pickering, who had once challenged the sun to a duel because it had rained on the day of a hunt, spent his days watching ducks.
Michael J. SullivanYou think you’re a very clever fellow, don’t you?” Saldur challenged.
“No, Your Grace,” Merrick replied. “Clever is the man who makes a fortune selling dried-up cows, explaining how it saves the farmers the trouble of getting up every morning to milk them. I’m not clever—I’m a genius.
Stichwörter: humor
Right. And our first job is to teach her to give a speech on the Grand Balcony in three days.”
“That does not sound too difficult. Has she done much public speaking?”
Amilia forced a smile. “A week ago she said the word no.
Stichwörter: humor
If this keeps up, we’re going to own Melengar,” Hadrian mentioned.
“What’s this we stuff?” Royce asked. “You’re retired, remember?”
“Oh? So you’ll be leading the Nationalist advance, will you?”
“Sixty-forty?” Royce proposed.
Stichwörter: humor
And now she has you seizing control of my army.”
“Your army? I thought this was Gaunt’s.”
“So did he.
Stichwörter: humor
« erste vorherige
Seite 4 von 9.
nächste letzte »
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.