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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.

R.L. LaFevers

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R.L. LaFevers
Soul
Sheer
Feel
Reached
Feels
Surely
Every
Fingers
Time
Smile
Along
Wonder
Glances
Running
Finger

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I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.
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One heart cannot serve two masters.
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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.
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For all that I have kissed before, I have never felt anything like this. It is as if I have swallowed a tiny piece of the sun, its warmth and light reaching into every corner of my soul and chasing away the shadows. I surrender to that kiss - surrender to the strength and the courage and the sheer goodness of the man.
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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.
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He smiles then, and even though it is well past midnight, its as if the sun has just come out.
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And so it is with us we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.
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It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.
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It is a good thing I no longer have a heart, because if I did, it would surely break.
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When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.
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The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.
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... true faith never comes without anguish.
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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.
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Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.
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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.
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When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.
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You come to us well tempered, my child, and it is not in my nature to be sorry for it. It is a well tempered blade that is the strongest.
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He barks out a laugh. My little rebel.
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People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.
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There is no shame in scars, Ismae.
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