So.... You are well equipped for our service.' 'Which is?' 'We kill people.
... 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.
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.
... while I am Death's daughter and walk in His dark shadow, surely the darkness can give way to light sometimes.
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.
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.
I stare at him coldly. "I do not care for needlework." I pause. "Unless it involves the base of the skull.
It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.
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.
Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?
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.
Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.
One heart cannot serve two masters.
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.
The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.
The maids in my village talked of falling in love with a man at first sight. That has always seemed naught but foolishness to me. Until I enter Sister Serafina's workshop. It is unlike anything I have ever seen, full of strange sights and smells, and I tumble headlong into love.
We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the total sum of who we are.
I am beginning to think that love itself is never wrong. It is what love can drive people to do that is the problem.
It takes a surprising amount of courage to place one's hand into an unseen area when your mind is thinking about vermin.
If you are not careful, soon you will have men locking themselves in dungeons so that you can rescue them.
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