You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.

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.

The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.

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

I am a handmaiden of Death. I walk in His dark shadow and do His bidding. Serving Him is my only purpose in this life.

You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.

I will sit here but an hour or two, then leave." I yawn. "So very long as that?" When he answers, there is a wry note in his voice. "I do have my reputation to protect.