He does not start guiltily, as he should, but frowns in annoyance. "Who are you?" I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. "Vengeance," I say softly.

Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?

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

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

I am sorry,' he whispers. 'I am sorry I treated you so ill. I thought only to protect Duval.' 'It was not I who was poisoning him,' I say. 'No, but you had stolen his heart and I was afraid you would rip it from his chest when you left.

Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.

You come to us well tempered, my child, and it is not in my nature to be sorry for it. It is a well tempered blade that is the strongest.