When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.
I have found it is surprisingly difficult to remain sad when a cat is doing its level best to sandpaper one's cheeks.
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.
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.
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.
People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.
It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.
I stare at him coldly. "I do not care for needlework." I pause. "Unless it involves the base of the skull.
The body on the ground is nothing more than a shell, a husk, and I am filled with a sense of peace. Yes, I think. Yes. This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.
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.
Are men truly such idiots that they cannot resist two orbs of flesh?
A kiss for luck, demoiselle?" It is a magnificent, lusty kiss and I feel nothing but deep regret that it may be his last. Just before he pulls away, he whispers in my ear. "Duval said to give you that should I get a chance. It is from him.
Tis Vanth's cage. You can just move it out of the way." "I already have," he grumbles. "With my shin.
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 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.
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.
So.... You are well equipped for our service.' 'Which is?' 'We kill people.
I pause at the door, wishing I could find a corner and sleep until my head clears, but the sailor said the abbess is expecting me, and while I do not know much about abbesses, I suspect they are not fond of waiting.
I blew that clay pigeon to smithereens. I don't know why Mum got so upset. According to Uncle Andrew she's a crack shot herself. But she says I'm too young. What I'd like to know is how old does a person have to be before they get to do all the fun stuff?
... true faith never comes without anguish.
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.
There is no shame in scars, Ismae.
I am sorry,' he whispers. 'I am sorry I treated you so ill. I thought only to protect Duval.' 'It was not I who was poisoning him,' I say. 'No, but you had stolen his heart and I was afraid you would rip it from his chest when you left.
Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?
... while I am Death's daughter and walk in His dark shadow, surely the darkness can give way to light sometimes.
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