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.

Do you need anything before I go? I want you to return my wits, I long to say.

... true faith never comes without anguish.

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.

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

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.

One heart cannot serve two masters.