I know you have bad news,” I say softly. “I’m ready for it.” But that’s not true. One is never ready. You just lie and say you are and hope you can take the hit on the chin without going down.

Like most, I was a mix of good and bad, anger and protectiveness, kindness and pride. But right now, I had only strangled fear and the promise of revenge.

My heart shifted a little in my chest; it seemed to swell and beat against my bones until I couldn't hear.

He'd said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad.

Sometimes I miss the old me.

A huntress never stabbed anything she didn't want to.

Most people can’t stomach silence; it provides too much opportunity to think about things they prefer to avoid.