Le Roi d'Ys, tome 3 : Dahut

Se lifted her head higher. 'My destiny is other than a filthy barbarian wallowing on me,' she said.
'You are no Queen,' he responded slowly.
'Well, I would be -' Dahut caught his arm. All at once she was a young girl pleading.

Yet you are my son. If I must disown you, I will not forsake you.

Budic poised for a renewed assault. 'Dahut is worth every price,' he said.
'After you murdered her father?'
Budic's voice throbbed. 'She's ready for me.'
The rage that burst up through Gratillonius was like nothing else in his life. It froze all the world. Its white wind filled all space and time. It bore away humanness, mortality, the divine; nothing remained but ice, the crystalline logic of what to do.

Seek the Queen who has no King.

Knowledge is a drink that never quenches need for itself.

Gratillonius should not have allowed this. But who could refuse Dahut? She might have been a centauress, as fluidly as she and the animal moved together. Her clothes were a boy’s, loose tunic and tight breeches, daring if not forbidden for a girl on an exiguous saddle whose knees guided as much as her hands did. Oh, blue-streaked alabaster tapering down to rosy nails… heavy amber braids, lapis lazuli eyes…