I will sit here but an hour or two, then leave." I yawn. "So very long as that?" When he answers, there is a wry note in his voice. "I do have my reputation to protect.

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 am a handmaiden of Death. I walk in His dark shadow and do His bidding. Serving Him is my only purpose in this life.

For all that I have kissed before, I have never felt anything like this. It is as if I have swallowed a tiny piece of the sun, its warmth and light reaching into every corner of my soul and chasing away the shadows. I surrender to that kiss - surrender to the strength and the courage and the sheer goodness of the man.

... then he offers me his arm. As I take it, I wonder what folly decreed that women cannot walk unassisted.

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.

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.