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

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.

Every time he glances at me I feel it just as surely as if he has reached out and run his finger along my soul. It is all I can do not to smile at the sheer wonder of it.

You love me?' 'Yes, you great lummox. I love you.' He lets out a sigh. 'Sweet Camulos! It's about time.

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

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

Are men truly such idiots that they cannot resist two orbs of flesh?