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169 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1999
He smiled. "You roasted several trolls back in the wheat field. As a rule fair maidens remain helpless until properly rescued."
"I... I'm sorry. I'm not from around here."
"Mmm. It's a refreshing change. I've rescued many maidens. Never a troll-killer."
You'd think it would be romantic, or at least erotic, squeezed in close with the perfect knight. And maybe later, someday when the specific memories had faded away and all that was left was my own private myth, it would be all those things.
But right here, right now, it was the details, the reality that occupied my mind. Big details. Little ones.
Horses bounce. And getting bounced when you're resting all your weight on the one butt cheek that's on a man's thigh, while the other butt cheek just kind of hangs there in the air, so that every step sends a little impact up your tailbone and up your spine, well, that gets old fairly quickly. Not to mention the bladder factor.
Life, even in Everworld, wasn't a romance novel. I guess romance writers imagine that being rescued is a big rush, a kind of thrill that will just send you into a state of uncontrollable desire. But here I was, all alone with a shockingly handsome man who had just saved my life. A knight, no less. And mainly I just felt tired.
Fear wears you out. Real fear, not the artificial fear you get parachuting or bungee jumping. It's easy to tell the difference between the real thing and the fake: if you have any desire to yell "Yee-hah!" it's not real.
Real fear makes you want to beg and plead and pray. Please let me live, please, please let me live. It makes you lose control over your own muscles, over your own mind. It makes you want to vomit.
It makes you so tired.