Wendy Clements

“Stefan wasn’t sure if it had been watching them and realizing how deep Adrian and Madeleine’s attachment ran, or if it was the fact he was already half in love with Adrian, but he found himself talking before he could stop himself.
“I know we’ve only known each other for a year or so, so it’s not really my place to offer my opinions, and I have no concept of what it’s like to be a Royal—the expectations, everything involved,” he started, and Adrian looked up at him. “But my parents were Diplomats, and I did learn a few things from them about how to get what you want.”
“Yes?” Adrian asked guardedly.
“I’ve been to many courts, and seen many Lord’s daughters. None of them are like Madeleine. No, wait, I’m not insulting her,” he added quickly as Adrian opened his mouth to speak. “What I’m saying is, those girls are being groomed for the traditional roles your father intimated she was to take when she’s older. Now you find out what she really wants—at least at nine years old—to be a Healer and to marry who she wants to. She wants the independence she sees we have.”
“Brion’s marriage was arranged when he was thirteen,” Adrian told him. “He seems happy enough, and so does Gwyne, for that matter, but she’d been preparing to be his wife since she was—since she was younger than Maddy.”
“But the rest of you haven’t been,” Stefan pointed out, and Adrian nodded in agreement. “One of the basic ideas I grew up with was compromise, giving up just enough to make both sides happy. What if there was no compromise with your sister? If she became so unmarriageable, such an unlikely prospect as a complacent wife, that no one wanted to marry her?” he paused to let his words sink in.”
― Wendy Clements

“These are a traveler’s snakes,” Conall countered. “But even on a larger scale, they’re different.” He smirked at Galen’s expression of mingled disgust and fear. “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked again. He let out a sigh. “My girls talked to you.”

Galen searched his face. “Let’s just say I have a vested interested. One that’s very close to me. And another who might be?” he asked hesitantly, and Conall raised his eyebrows.

“You’re very forward. More than I’m used to.”

“More than you’re used to?” Galen laughed. “Says the man who covers himself in gold powder, then stands on a stage wearing nothing but shorts leaving very little to the imagination, and three snakes?”

Conall squirmed in his chair. “When you put it like that… That’s my outside personality— my stage persona. The one Henry calls The Incredible Constrictor. I hate it, but once he’s stuck on something, it’s very hard to shake him. I could have strangled him. You’d think I was the one doing the constricting.”

“Do you?” Galen asked with a half smile. Conall blushed, his tan hiding some of it, but not all.

“Only when encouraged,” he finally muttered back, and Galen laughed.”
― Wendy Clements, Heart in a Bottle