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.

It is a good thing I no longer have a heart, because if I did, it would surely break.

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

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.

I pause at the door, wishing I could find a corner and sleep until my head clears, but the sailor said the abbess is expecting me, and while I do not know much about abbesses, I suspect they are not fond of waiting.

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

This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.