“Not all is certainty in our world, Karigan. If it were there'd be no opportunity for faith; and then it would be a very dull existence.”
“Every moment of life mattered. Even the perfect snowflake that alighted on his palm and melted in seconds.”
“There were more recent markings as well-initials scratched over the pictographs, some with dates. people were always wanting to announce their existence to the world in a way that would surpass the ages, creating some sort of immortality. For all Karigan knew, the more ancient carvings were just another incarnation of such an urge.”
“her all the way to the crossroads, and I think it more than adequate.” Everyone gaped at her like she was mad. “Our goal,” she continued, “was to distract the king, was it not? To distract the king and those who serve him, to send them on a merry chase. It would have been nice to meet the lady, and to use her captivity to our advantage, but our first intention was to empty the tombs of its guards, yes?” Immerez calmed and nodded, and Sarge let out a breath of relief. Karigan’s own thoughts were awhirl. They kidnapped Estora just to distract the king? To empty the tombs? What were they up to? “Who are you?” she asked the woman. The woman did not answer, but withdrew a pendant from beneath her chemise. It was crudely made of iron, but shaped into a design Karigan knew well: a dead tree. “Second Empire,” she whispered. She glanced at the onlookers. “You’re all Second Empire?” Some drew out pendants like the woman’s, and others raised their hands, palms outward, to show the tattoo of the dead tree. The old woman smiled kindly”
“In my heart, I've always been yours. We're forever angel. Will you marry me?”
“Protecting somebody by hurting them before someone else gets the chance isn't the kind of protecting that anybody wants.”
“I know you're upset, I know you're scared, but don't walk away.”
“The amused heat in Lucien eyes scorched her. In that moment she wasn’t ordinary Sophie Black, builder’s PA and invisible wife. She was sexy and sophisticated Ms. Black, able to stop Viking sex-gods in their tracks with just a few little words. She noticed the way Lucien’s throat worked as he swallowed before he spoke.
“You start in the morning. Nine o’ clock sharp. Don’t be late, Ms. Black.”
“Her head felt like elephants were doing the merengue on her cerebellum.”
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