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“I frowned. “I didn’t know Clovians were allowed to have more than one wife.” “We aren’t typical Clovians,” said the count. You don’t say. “Care to elaborate?” I asked. “No.” Silver light glinted in his eyes. Despite everything else I knew about him, his eyes were a marvel—large, mournful, pale light framed by darkness. “Is Sourial married?” I asked. “Why are you asking about him?” A blade of steel undercut in his tone. “Just making conversation.” “Sourial and I are unusual among our kind. We have no wives.” “Will he be at the party, too?” “Making conversation again, are you?” He murmured. “Oh yes. My people call it chit-chatting.” “It’s a terrible habit.” “Some day, Count Saklas, you are going to have fun. And it is going to blow your mind.” “I’d rather keep my mind intact.” — C.N. Crawford