His world was a swirl of senses. As nobility, he got the best fabrics, the best food, and could afford the best perfumes. Only the best sights were reserved for him, though he had seen his share of horrors as well ( Read more... )

Richard couldn’t decide which was worse-the storm outside or the storm currently in Philip’s eyes ( Read more... )

Sometimes, walking was hard ( Read more... )

Occasionally, if he was feeling particularly poetic, Philip would spend his idle moments musing on all the analogies and metaphors he could imagine for Richard ( Read more... )

 Philip lay with his head on Richard’s chest, tapping on it ( Read more... )

 Richard ran his fingers lightly down Philip’s back. “This is a sin ( Read more... )

 Richard liked the summer. He enjoyed the feel of the sun, and the life that seemed to burst from the world as if from a thaw. Summer was also harsher than spring, with spring’s dainty flowers and mild temperatures. Summer though, that was the season that bore berries and when the entire world sometimes felt like it was on fire ( Read more... )

 “We’re like children, playing with things we’ve never understood ( Read more... )

 Red. He had always hated the color and most of what it stood for. Red for blood, red for the templar’s cross, and now they stood in a desert, where symbolically it stretched out for miles ( Read more... )

 “Would you ever fight me ( Read more... )