“Why the hell would I bring you?" she exclaimed. All her anger turned at his presumption. It was a sign of her agitation that she'd sworn."Because," he said, face calm, "I can teach you how to stake a Strigoi.""THE HELL YOU CAN," I said aloud to no one.”

“How many times would I damn myself for you? Ask me that.""How many?" she said faintly, her eyes searching his face. She stopped breathing to hear his answer."Till the gates of hell close," he said flatly.”

“Fucking hell.” He sighed dramatically. “I hate you, Beckstrom.” “Hold on to that,” I said. “You know, because anger will get you there.”

“How can I judge?" she said at last. "To me, he is a hero. To the world a monster." She let her head fall into her arms and started crying quietly. "I miss him! Curse him! I miss him!"Mithorden put a hand on her shoulder and let her cry for a few minutes. A sad smile slowly spread across his face. "I'm glad you can forgive him," he said at last.Luthiel lifted her head. "How do you know?"Because you miss him.”

“...I crave a shawl."He was tense with anger but his hands remained gentle at her waist. He said, "I can make you a shawl."She cocked her head. "You knit? Well. That's an unusual accomplishment in a soldier.”

“Actually,” I said, hesitant to bring it up, “I was thinking along the lines of a curse that can turn you human.” “Or witch?” Ivy said, surprising me. There was a soft vulnerability in her and I blinked. “You don’t want to be a witch,” I said quickly. “Why not? You are.”