In the distance a wolf howls. Let it come, I think. Beast will most likely simply howl back, and the creature will either turn tail and run or fall into line behind him, like the rest of us have.

I stare at him coldly. "I do not care for needlework." I pause. "Unless it involves the base of the skull.

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

Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.

Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours, until Death do us part. Whatever that may mean when consorting with one of Death’s handmaidens.

People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.

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.