"Thing is," Freize remarked to Ishraq quietly as she rode behind him, seated sideways, her feet resting on the pillion support, one hand around his waist, tucked into his belt, "thing is, we never know where we are going. We just go along, steady as the donkey, who knows no more than us but plods along, and then that pompous jackal suddenly brings out a piece of paper and tells us we are to go somewhere else entirely and get into God knows what trouble." - Changeling

It was the strangest sight. The girl’s hand had swung down as they lifted her; now she was quite unconscious. It seemed that she had fainted when they had pulled her from the barred gate. Her head was rolled back, the little laces from her nightcap brushing the ground as they carried her, her long nightgown trailing in the dust. - Changeling

The gaze that Isolde turned on her friend was dark with guilt. "I can’t give up," she whispered. "Whatever people think I have done or say I have done, whatever I have done—I won’t give up on myself. I’ll keep my word." - Changeling

The hammering on the door shot him into wakefulness like a hand-gun going off in his face. The young man scrambled for the dagger under his pillow, stumbling to his bare feet on the icy floor of the stone cell. - Changeling