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“They were chocolate-covered orange slices, each slice perfect and plump as a jewel, with smooth-as-silk chocolate encasing half of them. She felt a lump in her throat. She hadn't known he'd been listening when she talked about oranges weeks ago. He'd barely liked her then. In fact, she was certain he hadn't. All of a sudden, it felt like her family was here with her, even though they hadn't yet written back to the letter she'd sent--- it had been picked up by a passing sailor weeks ago, but no boat had returned with a response. Still, here was a bit of home. Terlu blinked quickly. "You don't like them?" he said, concerned. "I know you said you remembered candied oranges from your Winter Feast, but then I thought with your story about the orange tree..." "It's perfect," she said. "You're perfect.” — Sarah Beth Durst