“I bear a deep red stain that runs from my left shoulder down to my right hip, a trail left by the herbwitch's poison that my mother used to try to expel me from her womb.”

“When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.”

“It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.”

“He does not start guiltily, as he should, but frowns in annoyance. "Who are you?"I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. "Vengeance," I say softly.”

“You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.”

“It is this kindness of his that unsettles me most. I can dodge a blow or block a knife. I am impervious to poison and know a dozen ways to escape a chokehold or garrote wire. But kindness? I do not know how to defend against that.”

“His divine spark lives within me, a presence that will never leave. And I am but one of many tools He has at His disposal. If I cannot act - if I refuse to act - that is a choice I am allowed to make. He has given me life, and all I must do to serve Him is to live. Fully and with my whole heart. With this knowledge comes a true understanding of all the gifts He has given me.”