yarrr, ye scurvy boy-king, halt ye whinin'

"Reticence? No," he said. "But I prize freedom of the mind above freedom of the body. I claim the right to make my own mistakes and keep quiet about them. You have all the license in the world to protect your husband. My life is at your disposal, but not my thoughts."

"Dear me," said Kate, rising. "I doubt if I could stomach your thoughts. It was just a few basic facts I was thinking of, such as whether you were one of these people who can eat goose eggs. The creatures keep laying them: an appalling habit, but we can't break it."

Untenable positions were not for Kate. His mouth relaxed, and he rose smoothly and opened the door for her, laughter lines gathering at the corners of the veiled eyes. "I thought the conversation was cutting an ovoid tract. I wouldn't for the world deprive you of the last bite."

"Thank you," said Kate. "If we're referring to snakes. Not if you're talking about fish."

"Pythonissa," retorted Lymond, and unexpectedly smiled.

from The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett