I told you before, Katsa. I won't fight when you're angry. I won't solve a disagreement between us with blows." He lifted the ice and fingered his jaw. He moaned and held the ice to his face again. "What we do in the practice rooms-that's to help each other. We don't use it against each other. We're friends, Katsa. We're too dangerous to each other. And even if we weren't, it's not right.

His name was Death. It was pronounced to rhyme with "teeth", but Bitterblue liked to mispronounce it by accident on occassion.

I’m bored to death. Perhaps I should pillage one of my neighbors for my own amusement. It seems to work for Drowden.

I'd thought once, actually, of taking your mind, if you asked. I'd thought I could help you fall asleep at night." He opened his mouth to say something. Shut it again. His face closed for a moment, his unreadable mask falling into place. He spoke softly. "But that wouldn't be fair; for after I slept you'd be left awake, with no one to help you sleep.

You can't help whom you love, Lady. Nor can you know what it's liable to cause you to do.

I don't want to love you if you're only going to die.

How unjust then to meet that person you love, and be kept away from them only because ones bed is made of hay , and the other, feathers.