“Lies were something you told other people to make things easier, somehow - hopefully, for them, but often more selfishly for yourself.”

“It's always easier,' he offered at last, 'when you feel these things yourself; seeing them in other people reveals just how ugly they are.”

“Is there anyone’s life story you don’t want to know?”“Not really.” His expression was unexpectedly serious. “Because people make a story of their lives.Gains, losses, tragedy and triumph—you can tell a lot about someone simply by what they put into eachcategory. You can learn a lot about what you put into each category by your reaction to them. Theyteach you about yourself without ever intending to do it—and they teach you a lot about life.”

“She wanted to die. She wanted to die. Because then it would be over. All the loss, all the grief, all the pain, the emptiness - over. And she had said nothing then. Nothing. Nor had she crawled into her room and swallowed her mother’s pills, or crawled into her bath and opened up her own wrists. As if death were somehow personal. As if death were somehow an enemy that could be faced and stared down, she would not give it the satisfaction of seeing how badly it had hurt her. Again.”

“And I’ll stop with the lecture now. I don’t like people much—they irritate and annoy me. But I’mfascinated by them anyway.”

“There were always people who struggled their way to the top of the heap, no matter how much that heap looked like garbage when seen from the outside.”

“Bellusdeo laughed. It was, for a moment, the only sound in the quiet of the fief’s night, and it was warmer and deeper than the lingering night chill. When her laughter faded, she glanced at Kaylin. “I was not like this before. I thought that the Shadows had not touched me.” She lowered her head a moment.Kaylin understood this, as well. “It seems so unfair,” she finally said.“Life is unfair. Which part of it pains you?”“We suffer, and it breaks something. When we win free—by gaining our name, by crossing a bloody bridge—we still live in a cage of scars. If life were fair, we would never have suffered what we suffered at all; having suffered it and survived, we’re still reacting to things that don’t exist anymore.”“But they did.”“Yes. I hate that they still define me.” Voice lower, she said to Bellusdeo, “I want that to change. I don’t know how to change it. But I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying.” Shaking her head, she forced herself to smile; it was surprisingly easy. There was something about Bellusdeo that she liked. “Home is a strange thing.”“What do you mean?”“We lose it, and we think it’s gone forever. That’s how I felt the first time I lost mine. It took me years to understand that I could find—and make—another. I couldn’t do it on my own, though; I don’t think—for me—home exists in isolation.”