“Trust me, I never underestimate my charm or any of my other magnificent attributes. They work great on women. Alas, men tend to see me as an unwelcome rival. You, he might listen to. You're good at talking people into things.""What makes you say that?""Because I'm perched in the rafters of a cannery, at risk from a man-slaying magical creature, and spending time with a drunk, a gangster, and an assassin at . . . what time is it?”

“Friendship is as selfish as any other relationship, perhaps more so because it masquerades as something noble. I am more comfortable with those who approach me with blades drawn.”

“You better not be dead. This team is already overflowing with ankle spankers. I was looking forward to having more women around." Yara's eyelids fluttered open. She blinked a few times, focused on him, and frowned."Ankle spanker? The only thing you've got that'll reach that far is your ego.”

“You can only fight one man at a time with a sword, but, with a pen, you can compose a lecture to bore legions of enemy troops to death.”

“Sicarius wore his usual guess-my-thoughts-if-you-can-mask, though she sensed he did not approve.”

“Sicarius,” Amaranthe said quietly.He bent low, eyes toward her face.With the men laughing and talking up front, and the lorry clacking and chugging as the stack billowed black smoke into the air, this was scarcely a romantic spot. But maybe it did not matter. His response would not likely be to wrap her in his arms and kiss her. Whatever response he gave — if he gave one at all — she anticipated it would sting.“I…uhm…” Amaranthe forced herself to meet his gaze. “I love you.”A long moment passed. She did not remember breathing.Sicarius nodded infinitesimally. “I know.”

“My father used to say some families are made by shared blood and some families are made by spilled blood”