If you are not careful, soon you will have men locking themselves in dungeons so that you can rescue them.

Perhaps that is because you mistake death for justice, and they are not the same thing at all.

Truly, we are the gods' own children, forged in the fire of our tortured pasts, but also blessed with unimaginable gifts.

Jewels can be replaced, cousin. Independence, once lost, cannot.

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.

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.

Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?