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.

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

I bear a deep red stain that runs from my left shoulder down to my right hip, a trail left by the herbwitch's poison that my mother used to try to expel me from her womb.

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

Tis Vanth's cage. You can just move it out of the way." "I already have," he grumbles. "With my shin.

However, there are those who deserve to die but who have not yet encountered the means to do so—we help them on their way.

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