Jacin raised his head as she reached the edge of the dais. Their eyes clashed, and she was staring at a man who had been beaten and bound and mocked and tormented all day and for a moment Winter was sure he was broken. Another one of the queen's broken toys.

But then one side of his mouth lifted and the smile hit his startling blue eyes, and he was as bright and welcoming as the rising sun.

"Hey, Trouble," he said, leaning his head back against the dial.

With that, the terror from the past weeks slipped away. he was alive. He was home. He was still Jacin.

(From Winter, ch. 3)