You would throw away all that we have given you for a man’s love?” “Not a man’s love,” I say softly. “But Duval’s. And I would find a way to serve both my god and my heart. Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.

There is no shame in scars, Ismae.

It takes a surprising amount of courage to place one's hand into an unseen area when your mind is thinking about vermin.

And so it is with us; we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.

The maids in my village talked of falling in love with a man at first sight. That has always seemed naught but foolishness to me. Until I enter Sister Serafina's workshop. It is unlike anything I have ever seen, full of strange sights and smells, and I tumble headlong into love.

Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours, until Death do us part. Whatever that may mean when consorting with one of Death’s handmaidens.

... while I am Death's daughter and walk in His dark shadow, surely the darkness can give way to light sometimes.