I am beginning to think that love itself is never wrong. It is what love can drive people to do that is the problem.
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.
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.
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.
He smiles then, and even though it is well past midnight, its as if the sun has just come out.
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.
In the distance a wolf howls. Let it come, I think. Beast will most likely simply howl back, and the creature will either turn tail and run or fall into line behind him, like the rest of us have.
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.
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 takes a surprising amount of courage to place one's hand into an unseen area when your mind is thinking about vermin.
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.
. . . while I am Death's daughter and walk in His dark shadow, surely the darkness can give way to light sometimes.
The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.
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.
Tis Vanth's cage. You can just move it out of the way. " "I already have," he grumbles. "With my shin.
And so it is with us; we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.
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.
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.
When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.