Not all men are the same, you know. With someone such as Gavriel, I would suggest appearing aloof, not chasing too much. He might see that as suffocating rather than charming." Her words are sharp, but her voice is sweet, like honey on the edge of a blade, and meant to be cutting. I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face and commending his soul to Mortain.

He barks out a laugh. "My little rebel.

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

I cannot tell her I have been moping over a broken heart when I have worked so hard to convince her I have no heart at all.

God's Teeth,' he says. 'I was only trying to wake you. You were crying out in your sleep.' 'I was not,' I say, then look from his neck to my knife. 'When I tried to wake you, you stabbed me.' He sounds sore put out. and I cannot blame him.

We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the total sum of who we are.

Every time he glances at me I feel it just as surely as if he has reached out and run his finger along my soul. It is all I can do not to smile at the sheer wonder of it.