“Perhaps that was what made me hate the sorcerer most, despite my love – that he had woken in me again the desire to be pretty. To hold hands with a sweetheart. To wear the stupid white dress and carry the fresh ears of corn, as tradition dictated, and marry in front of a holy man. All that rubbish. The sorcerer stared at me. “Ugly?” he said. Like he’d never heard the word before.”
