“C’mon,” he said. “One foot in front of the other. You know how it’s done”“You’re interfering with my plan.”“Oh really?”“Yes. Faint, get trampled, grievous injuries all around.”“That sounds like a brilliant plan.”“Ah, but if I’m horribly maimed, I won’t be able to cross the Fold.”Mal nodded slowly. “I see. I can shove you under a cart if that would help.”

“I'm not like you, Mal. I never really fit in the way that you did. I never belonged anywhere.""You belonged with me," he said quietly."No, Mal. Not really. Not for a long time.”

“You’re shaking,” he said.“I’m not used to people trying to kill me.”“Really? I hardly notice anymore.”

“It's probably for the best, I told myself. How would I have said goodbye to Mal anyway? Thanks for being my best friend and making my life bearable. Oh, and sorry I fell in love with you for a while there. Make sure to write!'What are you smiling at?'I whirled, peering into the gloom. The Darkling's voice seemed to float out of the shadows. He walked down to the stream, crouching on the bank to splash water on his face and through his dark hair.'Well?' he asked, looking up at me.'Myself,' I admitted.'Are you that funny?''I'm hilarious.”

“Get moving. We need to find that stag so I don’t have to chop your head off.”“I never said you had to chop my head off,” I grumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and stumbling after him.“Run you through with a sword, then? Firing squad?”“I was thinking something quieter, like maybe a nice poison.”“All you said was that I had to kill you. You didn’t say how.”I stuck my tongue out at his back, but I was glad to see him so energized, and I suppose it was a good thing that he could joke about it all. At least, I hoped he was joking.”

“I have loved you all my life, Mal,” I whispered through my tears. “There is no end to our story.”

“I had crossed the yard to him slowly, watching him draw closer, baffled by the way my heart was skittering around my chest. Then he'd picked me up and spun me in a circle, and I'd clung to him, breathing in his sweet, familiar smell, shocked by how much I'd missed him. Dimly, I'd been aware that I still had a shard of the blue cup in my hand, that it was digging into my palm, but I didn't want to let go.When he finally set me down and ambled off to the kitchen to find his lunch, I stood there, my palm dripping blood, my head still spinning, knowing that everything had changed.Ana Kuya had scoled me for getting blood on the clean kitchen floor. She'd bandaged my hand and told me it would heal. But I knew it would just go on hurting.In the creaking silence of the cell, Mal kissed the scar on my palm, the wound made so long ago by the edge of that broken cup, a fragile thing I'd thought beyond repair.”