Eena Quotes

(You look the same.)

(I'm not using it yet.)

(Don't you think a test run would be a good idea?)

She nodded. (Probably.)

Her eyelids closed as she concentrated on a mental image of the person she wished to impersonate. Her desire was to appear exactly as the immortal leader, Pallador. Calling on the powers of the dragon's blood, she willed its enchantment alive. It was Ian's astounded whisper that told her the charm was working.

"Whoa!"

Opening her eyes she fully expected to see Ian staring at the shining gems on the dragon's blood. Instead, he was staring at her with a look that was more or less disgusted.

(That's really you?) he asked, looking her up and down as though she had turned into some sort of lizard creature.

(Yes, why? What's wrong with me?) Her gaze dropped to check for herself. All she observed was her tawny dress pulled in at the waist by Edgar's hideous, glowing belt. She glanced at one arm and then the other, both sleeved in the same billowed silk. Her fingers flailed, still the same short, slender digits.

(Oh crud,) she breathed. (It's not working.)

(Oh, it's working alright,) Ian disagreed.

Eena glanced up to find him grinning with real amusement.

(You're a dead ringer for the guy. Ghost robe, bug eyes, bony fingers, in need of a serious haircut. Exactly like him.)

(Really?)

(Really.)

(Cool,) sh ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

True love takes time. It's an earned comfort that tells you she'll be right there beside you no matter what you do, not necessarily happy with your every action, but faithful to you just the same. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Yes, he knew he was falling in love, her way. And the worst part was, as disabling as he found the emotion to be he craved it all the more. To feel this way about a woman was amazing even if it was 'temporary and fleeting', as he'd put it. It was a natural high like he'd never felt before. One he couldn't get enough of. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Ravelly pointed to the illustration as he told his friend that he used to read the same story nightly to his son, Wahlister. "Imorih's Journey - quite the moralistic quest."

Unan nodded in agreement. "I read it to Ian and Eena when they were children." Then he held up the opened page with the picture of Imorih and the tiny, shouldered bug. He asked curiously, "Why do you say this is your favorite part, Master Ravelly?" The question caught Eena's interest. Her ears tuned in to their conversation, but her eyes continued to scan the lively crowd below.

The old Grott went on to explain. "That is the part where Imorih realizes the whispered voice she has been listening to, the advice she has been heeding, doesn't belong to her conscience as she first supposed. It shocks her to learn that for the more part of her journey she has been following the promptings of a negligible, albeit well-intentioned, creature. That's when two things happen in her life. First, she comprehends how cunning and manipulative the power of suggestion can be. Secondly, she learns to recognize the difference between her own voice - her own desires - and someone else's."

Unan hummed a sound of accordance. "That's right. Things change quite drastically after that discovery, don't they?"

"Yes, yes, they most certainly do. For the best, I recall."

"Because she becomes master of her own destiny after that."

"As we all should be."

Unan no ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

The woman laughed again. She was the loudest person in the cave. Eena wondered if perhaps she was talking to a female Ghengat. Curiosity got the best of her and she turned around to look, surprised to find neither a Ghengat nor a Harrowbethian woman, but a Mishmorat. A striking, cheetah-spotted Mishmorat with straight lengths of charcoal hair and the most alluring dark eyes in existence. This bronzed female was the same size as Eena but observably more muscular. She appeared to be a mix of cheetah, Arabian princess, and gladiator in tight-fitting pants. Eena paused, dropping the stone in her hands.
"Kira?" she breathed.
"Hmmm," the woman grumbled. Her painted eyes scrunched with displeasure. The look was still stunning. "I see my reputation precedes me."
Eena gawked as if a legendary ghost had been resurrected. "You're alive? ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Tell me you didn't," she groaned, knowing it would not be the truth. "Please tell me you didn't take advantage of these poor people."

"I didn't," he chirped.

"Liar."

With an irritated sigh he tried to convince her. "Amora, you're not seeing things from an immortal perspective. The people who built this temple…"

"Temple?" she cried, cutting him off. "You forced these people to build you a temple? Why? Because all of a sudden you're God now?"

Perturbed by her interruption, he raised a warning finger. "No, no, Amora, not God. But from their viewpoint I may seem a bit…..god-like."

She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner.

"If you would let me finish," he went on, "these particular individuals had no part in the construction of that monument; it was their ancestors who erected it. And I must say, they did a fine job. My likeness has weathered the centuries quite well."

"You're despicable."

He frowned at the insult. "Nobody was forced to build us a temple, Amora. They chose to do so."

"You were that impressive to them, huh?"

"Apparently." His eyes twinkled at the memory. He took a few steps toward the distant city, pulling Eena along. "Come on, let's go have some fun."

"No way." She planted her feet, refusing. Surprisingly it put a stop to him.

"And why not?"

"Because your sudden appearance will upset them! No doubt you'll wa ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

She imagined him leaning against the shuttle, entertaining thoughts of scolding her for dressing like a ragged commoner. Never mind that her present outfit was light years ahead in comfort.

(Actually, he's wishing he had been less critical of you earlier. He feels bad that you won't acknowledge his presence, and he blames himself.)

(Quit it, Ian. I'm not going to feel sorry for him.)

She caught her protector's shrewd grin, highlighted by the fire's glow. (You already do, Queenie.)

(This talent of yours is really annoying.)

He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "That's not what you thought earlier when you wanted to get ahold of Efren."

"One tiny rosebud in a handful of thorns," she retorted. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

I understand it was Derian who spoiled everything. He purposefully tainted your view of me and forced you to go along with him. I know none of what happened was your idea or your desire, Eena."

She didn't get up, but spoke from her curled position. Her voice was weak, still heavy with despair. "Derian didn't force me to do anything."

"But if he hadn't influenced you, we would be enjoying a pleasant dinner again, telling stories and laughing. I'm sure that would be the case. You would be happy……and so would I."

Eena chuckled without amusement.

"You have to admit we shared some very enjoyable evenings, didn't we? There's really no reason we can't put this whole mess behind us and start from where we left off." He sounded genuinely serious.

"You forget," she reminded him, "I heard your conversation with the Ghengats. This isn't about Derian, it's about you."

"Alright," he admitted with an acquiescent sigh, "so I'm not everything you'd hoped for. But really, what man can ever live up to any woman's terribly high expectations?"

This got her attention. She almost stood up to face him, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Leaning forward, she retorted, "Expecting a man to respect you, to be honest with you, and, oh yes, to not be a shameless murderer - I don't think those are overly high expectations!"

He shrugged, casually excusing his faults. "Nobody's perfect."

"What do you want? ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Eena had thought the whole idea of his picture was absolutely wonderful and had asked Willum what kind of animal she might be. He'd responded after only a moment of thought.
"I think you'd be a crioness."
"Why is that?"
"Because they can fly."
"Why would that remind you of me?" She'd been unable to guess his reasoning.
"Because few animals can fly. You can do things others can't do. Like flying. It's magic."
"Oh. How very clever."
The comparison had left her both impressed and flattered. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

He made a commitment, Eena."
"And you believe this commitment," she spoke the word detestably, "is more important than true love?"
"Yes."
"No," she stubbornly disagreed.
"Yes," Ian insisted as he put his finger to her lips, preventing her from arguing any further. "Love grows and wanes, Eena, but honor, duty, and commitment, those things are constant and stable. They define who you are."
"They define who you are?" she repeated. "You mean miserable?"
"Content," he retorted.
"Lonely," she argued.
"Faithful," he insisted, his eyes widening to emphasize the importance of the word.
"Empty, regretful, and ... "
"Hopeful," Ian whispered in her ear.
This word caught her off guard. At present, hope was probably all any of them could cling to. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

The calling that has been thrust upon you is likewise as demanding and daunting. I understand how you feel, believe me. But we need you, Eena. I would say I'm sorry, but……honestly I'd have no other woman take your place. You are exactly what we need. And yes, it does require a great deal of sacrifice, but you don't have to bear these burdens alone. We are all here to help you. And believe me there isn't one of us who wouldn't give his last breath to defend yours so you might go on to heal Harrowbeth. Don't block us out. Don't think you have to stand alone. Please wake up and know that I understand. And I promise I won't say, 'I told you so.'"

The room fell quiet. Eena didn't move. Derian could see how her breathing continued smoothly in and out just as before.

"I'll give you some chocolate if you wake up." It was a last-ditch effort. "I've got plenty of it, and I don't care for the stuff. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

The most difficult challenge an honest man will ever face is having to choose between duty and love.
One creates a man of honorable character―a life worth dying for.
The other creates a vulnerable soul that madly yearns for either death or immortality. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

That's when Eena cut in. Both Ravelly and Unan looked to her as she announced, "My favorite part of the book is at the very end."

"Where Imorih battles the three-headed dragon," Unan presumed.

Eena shook her head. "Nope."

"Afterwards, where Imorih befriends the beast and earns his trust," Ravelly guessed.

Eena shook her head again. "No, sir. I mean the very end."

Unan's brow crinkled as he tried to recall what came next in the story. "Where she finds her prince who was held captive by none other than the same three-headed dragon?"

The young Sha shook her head a third time.

"I know! When the dragon flies them on his back to the edge of their homeland! That would be quite the experience, wouldn't it?" Ravelly seemed certain he had guessed the finishing act of the story.

"That's not the very, very end," Eena grinned.

"But that's the last page," Unan contended, his finger pointing at the final leaf in the book.

Wahlister was the one who finally guessed the correct answer. "They kiss on the dragon's back at the very end. That's where they promise to never allow anything, even death, to separate them again."

"Yes!" Eena chirped. "That's the best scene of all."

"I don't recall that promise," Ravelly admitted.

Unan assured the old Grott, "It's right here." He read the line that told of a promise made sure by a kiss. "Their lips sealed the whi ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Why don't you just spit it out?" she said sharply. "Just say what I know you're dying to say - 'Eena, I told you so!'"

"All I'm trying to say is that if you hadn't used those powers in the first place, Gemdorin would never have known about them, the dragon's heart would never have been uncovered, and consequently you would never have had to abuse those powers to defeat him. Then we wouldn't be in this predicament right now."

She summed it up for him concisely. "In other words, 'I told you so!' ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Life is a valuable and unique opportunity
to discover who you are.
But it seems as soon as you near
answering that age-old question,
something unexpected always happens
to alter your course.
And who it is you thought you were
suddenly changes.
Then comes the frustrating realization
that no matter how long life endures,
no matter how many experiences
are muddled through in this existence,
you may never really be able
to answer the question ...
Who am I?
Because the answer, like the seasons,
constantly, subtly, inevitably changes.
And who it is you are today,
is not the same person you will be tomorrow. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Eena!"
Recognizing Ian's voice, Eena turned to find him approaching her from behind. He was entirely clad in body armor and gauntlets, cradling an open-faced helmet in one arm. Painted on his chest plate was a flaming, gold sword. From his side hung a leather sheath, a golden hilt peeking from the top.
"I'm glad you're back. You are going to stay and watch us play, aren't you?" He looked hopeful she'd say yes.
Eena smiled brightly. "I didn't know you were talented enough to be on a dueling team. Nice sword," she teased.
Ian blushed a degree. "Thanks. They call us the Savage Warriors!" He rasped their team name in a semi-ferocious voice. "Jerin's team captain."
She laughed at the showy designation. "And who's your challenger today?"
"The Dragon Slayers - Derian's team."
Eena's face fell. "Derian is playing?" She groaned internally, knowing she should've guessed as much. This was starting to look like another setup. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

I've worn Niki's pants for two days now. I thought a third day in the same clothes might be pushing it."

Ian shrugged with indifference. "It might send Derian through the roof, but it doesn't bother me. Wear what you want to wear."

Eena wrinkled her nose at him. "Do you really feel that way or are you trying to appear more laissez-faire than Derian?"

"More laissez-faire?"

"Yes. That's a real word."

"Two words actually," he grinned. "Laissez faire et laissez passer, le monde va de lui même!" He coated the words with a heavy French accent. Eena gawked at him.

"Since when do you speak French?"

"I don't." Ian chuckled. "But I did do some research in world history the year I followed you around on Earth. Physics was a joke, but history - that I found fascinating."

Slapping a hand against her chest, Eena exclaimed, "I can't believe it! Unbeknownst to me, Ian actually studied something in high school other than the library's collection of sci-fi paperbacks!"

He grimaced at her exaggerated performance before defending his preferred choice of reading material. "Hey, popular literature is a valuable and enlightening form of world history. You would know that if you read a book or two."

She ignored his reproach and asked with curiosity, "What exactly did you say?"

"In French?"

"Duh, yes."

"Don't 'duh' me, you could easily have been referring to ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

The past wasn't something that could be changed or repaired, and so it was a place Ian refused to dwell. That wasn't the case with Eena. She often wandered on pathways long since set in stone. That was her way. She had some need to rearrange those stones from her past every now and then, as if changing how she perceived them altered anything. He felt guilty for wishing she would turn her back on it all. To him, no matter how the past was viewed, it was still the same pile of unchangeable, regrettable stones. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Eena focused on the younger version of herself. Her hair was tied back with a pink ribbon. The ruffled dress she wore was soiled up to the waist in wet grains of sand. A short, square shovel was gripped tightly as the child concentrated on her digging efforts.

Curious, Eena stepped closer to the girls. Ian followed along silently. Eena could feel his eyes on her, searching her profile before turning to the sand scene. She approached her younger self and stopped to watch. At first, she smiled at the darling ponytailed child. Then the spoiled girl's mouth opened.

"Angee," the five-year-old called the younger version of Angelle. "Go get water."

The older child jumped up at the command. "Yes, Eena."

"A whole bucket full."

"Yes, Eena."

"Angee, don't step on my holes!"

The older girl quickly picked up her foot, checking to be sure there were no child-made burrows nearby. She nodded at the little five-year-old. "Okay, Eena, I'll be careful."

Instead of being grateful, the ponytailed child tilted her head and bugged out her eyes. "Hurry up, Angee!"

"Okay, okay." The young Angelle lifted her skirt to watch for surrounding holes while carting a bucket in her other hand towards the lake.

Eena frowned at the sight. She heard Ian snicker beside her.

"I was a brat," she admitted ruefully.

"You still are. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Ian, you're awful."

"I know," he admitted. "But you love it."

Her cheeks flushed crimson. It was hard to deny the truth to a man who could read minds. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

They went back to scooping up breakfast, licking the mess off their fingers. Soon the pile of berry mush was gone and their tongues were dyed a nice midnight blue. Ian seemed in a good mood, sticking his tongue out playfully at his best friend. Eena did likewise, right back at him. She was happy he was smiling, even if his teeth were purple.
(You're too much fun, Eena,) Ian announced in her mind. (I'm really glad we're friends.)
(Me too,) she agreed. (Best friends.)
Ian leaned back on his hands and watched the waves roll in from far off. The swells were building into large, flat-crested waves.
(Angelle never thought like you do. You're creative and kinda crazy. Her thoughts were always more simple and, well ... ..normal.)
(Yeah, well, deadly dragons and evil witches tend to suck all the normal right out of you,) she grumbled.
(I suppose.) ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

What secrets?" Eena blurted out.

Kira answered the question by defensively listing them out on her fingers. "How about the fact that Derian was coming for you in a few short days, or the fact that Gemdorin was forcing you to search for some magic gem we were all unaware existed. How about the knowledge of your unusual powers that you stupidly used to infect the Ghengats, which was also a secret you kept to yourself until it was discovered by Gemdorin, making it too late for us to do anything about preventing you from being beaten half to death! You hide things as if you think your abilities are so superior to what the rest of us can possibly contribute!"

Eena shook her head adamantly. "That's not what I think…"

"It's how you behave. It's how you come across to everyone. Your selfish actions speak a helluva lot louder than your hollow words or your foolish intentions."

The young queen felt a rise of tears burn her eyes. "My intentions are not foolish. All I ever meant to do was protect those around me."

"By keeping us in the dark? That's not protection, girl. That's neglect."

Eena sniffled as fresh waterworks ran down her cheeks. Her face twisted up, confused. "People get hurt when they're involved in my problems."

"In our problems."

"No! My problems!" she insisted.

Kira threw up her arms. "There you go being all selfish again!"

Eena sucked in a ragged breath, almost c ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

I'll tell you what," she said, prepared to make a deal. "Let's see how your 'diplomacy' would profit us. If you can give me a decent solution to a pretend situation, I'll agree to have you accompany me instead of Shanks. Although, I don't know how wise it is to leave a Viidun captain on the Kemeniroc in your absence."

Derian agreed to the test. "Okay, what's your question?"

She thought hard for a moment; her eyes scrunching in concentration, lips pulled down to one side. Then, as a crooked grin spread across her lips, she set up an imagined scenario.

"Pretend we're down on the planet with this King Wennergren when he graciously offers to walk us through his cherished garden. While we're there he begs me to touch his favorite, award-winning flower, hoping my powers will make it thrive and blossom. But for some strange reason it doesn't respond to me the way plants do on our world. Instead of thriving, the flower withers and dies right before his shocked and furious eyes. Now pretend he's easily offended and has a horrible temper…"

Derian cut it. "You have no idea what his temperament is like."

"I know. That's not the point." Her eyes scolded him for interrupting. "Just pretend that he becomes outraged by my actions, assuming that I purposefully destroyed his prized plant. The angry king orders both of us to be seized and thrown into his deep, dark, inescapable dungeon. But, somehow we manage to dodge his line of soldiers a ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Life's gonna kick you in the butt.
That's what it does.
But if you gotta put up with this crap, the least you can expect is that your friends will stand by you. I mean, for crying in the night, what else are friends for but to help you make right what isn't in life? (Kira, The Mishmorat) ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Sevenah resumed staring up at the darkness. The sun had set entirely, giving way for the appearance of a speckled night's sky. It seemed the more she stared, the greater the number of stars. She pondered the immensity of the universe and how it resembled an artist's black canvas peppered with a haphazard splattering of white paint.

"I think there probably is life out there a lot like our own. I can't imagine so many suns - so many planets - and not at least one of them being something like ours. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

Eena turned aside, breathing shallowly as her mind raced with questions. She was glad he couldn't read the confusion that swooped her up like a passing tornado. Was it even possible to genuinely love more than one man?

Yes. Oh, yes.

She knew it because her heart irrefutably felt it. She loved Derian; it was true. She wasn't trying to convince herself of it, no matter what Edgar said. She yearned deeply for her captain.

But she loved Ian too. She always had. Only she purposefully, appropriately, had set those feelings aside when he made the decision to pursue Angelle.

But Angelle was gone now.

No, Eena thought to herself, this changes nothing. She scolded her heart for longing for something spent and ended, for even considering the possibility. Her with Ian? No, no, it had to remain in the past. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

But you will die, Amora."
"I know." She couldn't help but smile at his bemusement. "It's a fact I've always known, just like my ancestors before me. Don't you see? That's what makes us who we are. That's what makes life valuable, Pallador, knowing that each and every day we live is a gift. Therein lies mortality's great value. We cherish it because of its temporality. It's precious because it is fleeting. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich