““Eldric turned away from the mirror, holding out his hand. In the cup of his hand lay his fidget of paper clips. But the fidget had blossomed into a crown. An allover-filigree crown, with a twisty spire marking the front. I stared at it for some moments. "It's for you," said Eldric. "If you want it." "I'm seventeen," I said. "I haven't played at princess for years." "Does that matter ?" Eldric set it on my head. It was almost weightless, a true crown for the steam age. In a proper story, antagonistic sparks would fly between Eldric and me, sparks that would sweeten the inevitable kiss on page 324. But life doesn't work that way. I didn't hate Eldric, which, for me, is about as good as things get.””
