It hurt her eyes, almost, Ror City; and it didn't surprise her that Po should come from a place that shone.

Alone with Giddon again, Bitterblue considered him, rather liking the mud streaks on his face. He looked like a handsome sunken rowboat.

My life is an apology for the life of my father.

There will be no yelling at people who are bleeding themselves to unconsciousness.

If I'd been trying to kill him, he'd be dead.

Something caught in her throat at this second thanks, when she'd threatened him so brutally. When you're a monster, she thought, you are thanked and praised for not behaving like a monster. She would like to restrain from cruelty and receive no admiration for it.

She groped forward, hands and feet, in search of darkness, distance and solitude.