You’re better off fighting hand to hand than wielding a weapon you don’t know how to use. A skilled opponent would simply disarm you. Then your troubles would be doubled. Not only would you be under attack, but you’d have to counter your own weapon

Nothing says you care for me better than offering to torture my enemies.

I gave him a bored look. I had been threatened many times before and had learned that the men who didn’t make verbal threats were the most dangerous.

Flea stared at us, "I can't decide what's worse. Losing family members or not having a family member to lose.

I know I hated magic for a reason," Janco said. "Congratulations. This is the first time you've had a VALID reason to hate something," Ari countered. "Remember your campaign against sand?" "Sand! Horrid little stuff. Gets everywhere. I had a perfectly good argue--" "Janco." Ari's voice rumbled deep in his throat. In a heartbeat, Janco switched gears. "Well, this blood magic sounds worse than sand.

I balled my hands into tight fists to keep them from wrapping around Mr. I-Know-Everything's superior neck.

Did she just-" "Yes." "But I don't-" "Yes you do. We both stink." "Well, I'm not-" "Yes. You are." He huffed. "You wont let-" "No. No complaining. Let's go." I grabbed a clean shirt and pants from my saddlebags. "Well, she could have handled it better," he grumped. "No. She couldn't." He settled into a sulky silence as we visited the bathhouse.