R.L. LaFevers Quotes

When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.

I have found it is surprisingly difficult to remain sad when a cat is doing its level best to sandpaper one's cheeks.

Truly, we are the gods' own children, forged in the fire of our tortured pasts, but also blessed with unimaginable gifts.

People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.

I cannot tell her I have been moping over a broken heart when I have worked so hard to convince her I have no heart at all.

Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours, until Death do us part. Whatever that may mean when consorting with one of Death’s handmaidens.

Are men truly such idiots that they cannot resist two orbs of flesh?

Every time he glances at me I feel it just as surely as if he has reached out and run his finger along my soul. It is all I can do not to smile at the sheer wonder of it.

Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?

He barks out a laugh. "My little rebel.

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.

The maids in my village talked of falling in love with a man at first sight. That has always seemed naught but foolishness to me. Until I enter Sister Serafina's workshop. It is unlike anything I have ever seen, full of strange sights and smells, and I tumble headlong into love.

... then he offers me his arm. As I take it, I wonder what folly decreed that women cannot walk unassisted.

Do you need anything before I go? I want you to return my wits, I long to say.

You come to us well tempered, my child, and it is not in my nature to be sorry for it. It is a well tempered blade that is the strongest.

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

In the distance a wolf howls. Let it come, I think. Beast will most likely simply howl back, and the creature will either turn tail and run or fall into line behind him, like the rest of us have.

For all that I have kissed before, I have never felt anything like this. It is as if I have swallowed a tiny piece of the sun, its warmth and light reaching into every corner of my soul and chasing away the shadows. I surrender to that kiss - surrender to the strength and the courage and the sheer goodness of the man.

Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.

One heart cannot serve two masters.

The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.

Not all men are the same, you know. With someone such as Gavriel, I would suggest appearing aloof, not chasing too much. He might see that as suffocating rather than charming." Her words are sharp, but her voice is sweet, like honey on the edge of a blade, and meant to be cutting. I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face and commending his soul to Mortain.

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.

I am beginning to think that love itself is never wrong. It is what love can drive people to do that is the problem.

Jewels can be replaced, cousin. Independence, once lost, cannot.

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.

Perhaps that is because you mistake death for justice, and they are not the same thing at all.

You would throw away all that we have given you for a man’s love?” “Not a man’s love,” I say softly. “But Duval’s. And I would find a way to serve both my god and my heart. Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.

If he is smart, he will run. He is not.

It is a good thing I no longer have a heart, because if I did, it would surely break.

And just as love has two sides, so too does Death. While Ismae will serve as His mercy, I will not, for that is not how He fashioned me. Every death I have witnessed, every horror I have endured, has forged me to be who I am -- Death's justice.

I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.

You love me?' 'Yes, you great lummox. I love you.' He lets out a sigh. 'Sweet Camulos! It's about time.

I never skulk, and lurk only sometimes.

Tis Vanth's cage. You can just move it out of the way." "I already have," he grumbles. "With my shin.

... while I am Death's daughter and walk in His dark shadow, surely the darkness can give way to light sometimes.

I blew that clay pigeon to smithereens. I don't know why Mum got so upset. According to Uncle Andrew she's a crack shot herself. But she says I'm too young. What I'd like to know is how old does a person have to be before they get to do all the fun stuff?

Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.

I pause at the door, wishing I could find a corner and sleep until my head clears, but the sailor said the abbess is expecting me, and while I do not know much about abbesses, I suspect they are not fond of waiting.

So.... You are well equipped for our service.' 'Which is?' 'We kill people.

... true faith never comes without anguish.

Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.

God's Teeth,' he says. 'I was only trying to wake you. You were crying out in your sleep.' 'I was not,' I say, then look from his neck to my knife. 'When I tried to wake you, you stabbed me.' He sounds sore put out. and I cannot blame him.

I am sorry,' he whispers. 'I am sorry I treated you so ill. I thought only to protect Duval.' 'It was not I who was poisoning him,' I say. 'No, but you had stolen his heart and I was afraid you would rip it from his chest when you left.

There is no shame in scars, Ismae.

However, there are those who deserve to die but who have not yet encountered the means to do so—we help them on their way.

The body on the ground is nothing more than a shell, a husk, and I am filled with a sense of peace. Yes, I think. Yes. This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.

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.

I stare at him coldly. "I do not care for needlework." I pause. "Unless it involves the base of the skull.

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