Right. And our first job is to teach her to give a speech on the Grand Balcony in three days.” “That does not sound too difficult. Has she done much public speaking?” Amilia forced a smile. “A week ago she said the word no.

You think you’re a very clever fellow, don’t you?” Saldur challenged. “No, Your Grace,” Merrick replied. “Clever is the man who makes a fortune selling dried-up cows, explaining how it saves the farmers the trouble of getting up every morning to milk them. I’m not clever—I’m a genius.

Each killing steals a bit of humanity until a murderer is nothing more than an animal. A hunger replaces the spirit. A want for what was lost, but as with innocence, the soul can never be replaced. Joy, love, and peace flee such a vessel and in their stead blooms a desire for blood and death.

Slaying dragons, melting witches, and banishing demons is all fun and games until someone loses a sidekick—then it’s personal. The bad guy isn’t just the “bad guy” anymore, he’s the BAD GUY!

Happiness comes from moving toward something. When you run away, ofttimes you bring your misery with you.

I need your help.” Royce looked up as if his head weighed a hundred pounds, his eyes red, his face ashen. He waited. “One last job,” Hadrian told him, then added, “I promise.” “Is it dangerous?” “Very.” “Is there a good chance I’ll get killed?” “Odds are definitely in favor of that.” Royce nodded, looked down at the scarf in his lap, and replied, “Okay.

There you are!” he shouted at them. “Father has half the castle turned out looking for you.” “Us?” Hadrian asked. “Yes.” Fanen nodded. “He wants to see the two thieves in his chambers right away.” “You didn’t steal the silver or anything, did you, Royce?” Hadrian asked. “I would bet it has more to do with your flirting with Lenare this afternoon and threatening Mauvin just to show off,” Royce retorted. “That was your fault,” Hadrian said, jabbing his finger at him.