I cannot tell her I have been moping over a broken heart when I have worked so hard to convince her I have no heart at all.

It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.

So.... You are well equipped for our service.' 'Which is?' 'We kill people.

And so it is with us; we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.

You would throw away all that we have given you for a man’s love?” “Not a man’s love,” I say softly. “But Duval’s. And I would find a way to serve both my god and my heart. Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring 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.

I cannot tell her I have been moping over a broken heart when I have worked so hard to convince her I have no heart at all.