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.
People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.
This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.
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.
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.
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.
It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.
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.
Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.
Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.
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.
There is no shame in scars, Ismae.
Hate cannot be fought with hate. Evil cannot be conquered by darkness. Only love has the power to conquer them both.
You love me?' 'Yes, you great lummox. I love you.' He lets out a sigh. 'Sweet Camulos! It's about time.
I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.
And just as love has two sides, so too does Death. While Ismae will serve as His mercy, I will not, for that is not how He fashioned me. Every death I have witnessed, every horror I have endured, has forged me to be who I am -- Death's justice.
It is a good thing I no longer have a heart, because if I did, it would surely break.
If he is smart, he will run. He is not.
Truly, we are the gods' own children, forged in the fire of our tortured pasts, but also blessed with unimaginable gifts.
Jewels can be replaced, cousin. Independence, once lost, cannot.
You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.
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