Truly, we are the gods' own children, forged in the fire of our tortured pasts, but also blessed with unimaginable gifts.

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.

If he is smart, he will run. He is not.

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.

When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.

... then he offers me his arm. As I take it, I wonder what folly decreed that women cannot walk unassisted.

Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.