“But I want you,” he smiles at me. “Not just to make me a king. I’ve always wanted you. Despite it all, you are still the bride I would choose. I do choose you.”

“But I want you,” he smiles at me. “Not just to make me a king. I’ve always wanted you. Despite it all, you are still the bride I would choose. I do choose you.”

“What are you dreams, Twylla?”“I – I have none. I have all I want.”“I don’t believe that. You must have some dreams – everyone does.” “I want…I want to be happy,” I say, realizing at once that it’s a stupid thing to say. But to my surprise he’s nodding, a smile tugging at his lips. “I want to be happy too.”

“I've read all of the old stories now – "Red Blood and Dirty Gold", "The Winter Witch", "The Scarlet Varulv" – and I want more. Though I want fantasy – made-up, impossible things – I don't want stories that step out of the pages and into the world around me.”

“But I want you,” he smiles at me. “Not just to make me a king. I’ve always wanted you. Despite it all, you are still the bride I would choose. I do choose you.”

“Forgive me again.” He lifts the carafe and refreshes his goblet. “What happened to those two children who laughed at dandelion fuzz?” he says softly. “Are they gone forever, do you think?”

“We’re to be married. Does it matter if I permit it?”“To me it does, yes,” says Merek. “And I imagine you, like me, appreciate the illusion of having a choice, even when illusion is all it is.”