This gown, is it cut from shadow?" the general asked. "I can barely feel it between my fingers."

Not for want of trying, thought Madrigal.

"Perhaps it is a reflection of the night sky," he suggested, "skimmed from a pond?"

She supposed that he was being poetic. erotic, even. In return, as unerotically as possible- more like complaining of a stain that wouldn't come out-she said, "Yes, my lord. I went for a dip, and the reflection clung.

Author: Laini Taylor