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.
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.
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.
It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.
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?
I stare at him coldly. "I do not care for needlework." I pause. "Unless it involves the base of the skull.
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.
Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?
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.
So.... You are well equipped for our service.' 'Which is?' 'We kill people.
... true faith never comes without anguish.
... while I am Death's daughter and walk in His dark shadow, surely the darkness can give way to light sometimes.
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.
Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.
Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.
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.
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.
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