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... p> It mattered not what sort of battle it was. Be it one of the mind across a Sovereign's Quarrel board, one of the heart as two grew to love each other, or one of steel as blades parted flesh, there was a rhythm, a tempo that followed each and every movement of the players, moving them inexorably toward a distant conclusion.

When I was young, deep within the confines of Taegrin Caelum's vaults, I had seen this with the inquisitive eyes of a basilisk. I had sensed the puzzle pieces as in ...

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Waking up from a nightmare several hours before dawn, Belle fetched a drink of water.

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