Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.

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.

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.

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

Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.

He barks out a laugh. "My little rebel.

God's Teeth,' he says. 'I was only trying to wake you. You were crying out in your sleep.' 'I was not,' I say, then look from his neck to my knife. 'When I tried to wake you, you stabbed me.' He sounds sore put out. and I cannot blame him.