“He also said that I would never get an apology out of you.” There was a long pause. “I want one. Now.”Xcor put aside his soup and found himself searching the wounds he had given himself, recalling all that pain, all that blood—which had dried brown on the floorboards beneath him.“And then what,” he said in a rough voice.“You’ll have to find out.”Fair enough, Xcor thought.Without grace—not that he had any, anyway—he rose to his feet. At his full height, he was unsteady for too many reasons to count, and the off-balance feeling got even worse as he met the eyes of his… friend.Looking Throe in the face, he stepped up and put out his palm. “I am sorry.”Three simple words spoken loud and clear. And they didn’t go nearly far enough.“I was wrong to treat you as I did. I am… not as much of the Bloodletter as I thought—as I have e’er wanted to be.”

“He wished he knew how to describe to her what he felt.I started counting time for you.I want to change who I am for you.You are my Grace.He was too full, and there weren't enough words.He said, "I did not know I needed grace until I met you."Then as she held him tightly, he knew that what he said had been enough.”

“Indeed, Xcor stayed away for the wrong reason, the bad reason, an unacceptable reason—in spite of all his training, he found himself choosing Throe’s life over ambition: His anger had taken him in one direction, but his regret had led him in another. And the latter one was what won out.”

“I was about to tell him he was wrong to dwell on it, because it really didn't matter. But he cut me off and urged me one last time, drawing himself up to his full height and asking me if I believed in God. I said no. He sat down indignantly. He said it was impossible; all men believed in God, even those who turn their backs on him. That was his belief, and if he were ever to doubt it, his life would become meaningless. "Do you want my life to be meaningless?" he shouted. As far as I could see, it didn't have anything to do with me, and I told him so. But from across the table he had already thrust the crucifix in my face and was screaming irrationally, "I am a Christian. I ask Him to forgive you for sins. How can you not believe that He suffered for you?" I was struck by how sincere he seemed, but I had had enough. It was getting hotter and hotter. As always, whenever I want to get rid of someone I'm not really listening to, I made it appear as if I agreed. To my surprise, he acted triumphant. "You see, you see!" he said. "You do believe, don't you, and you're going to place your trust in Him, aren't you?" Obviously, I again said no. He fell back in his chair.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”That was a little too personal, wasn’t it?“I..” I was caught off guard.“Is that a yes, or a no?” He raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he stared deeply into my eyes.If I looked deep enough, I thought, maybe I could find what I was looking for.“No,” I whispered.He put a hand to his ear. “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you?” I had the feeling he had heard it loud and clear, but was messing with me.“No,” I said with one quick look at him and then I lowered my eyes toward the table.He smiled at my response. “Good,” he replied.Was I flirting? Was he?I looked back up to try to understand his answer. “And do you, Mr Kaden?”“Do I what?” He was definitely playing with me now. “Do I have a boyfriend? No. I don’t.”I laughed and couldn’t help but smile in the process.”

“I wanted him to be a poet. I wanted him to adventure out into the world and learn its ways, not losing himself in the jumble of life but seeing it in the poet's eye, and withdrawing after in the library room where he could write his poems of revelation. He would tell what he had seen. He never wrote a word in his life. But he did see.”