He’d almost told the princess that she could keep Hellas’s Horse, but there was something to be said about the prospect of charging down Morath foot soldiers atop a horse named Butterfly.
And though Chaol might have decided against pushing Hasar into the pool behind her, Yrene had no such qualms about doing it herself. One heartbeat, Hasar was smirking up at her.
The next, her legs and skirts and jewels went sky-up, her shriek piercing across the dunes as Yrene shoved the princess, chair and all, into the water.
" You wouldn't owe me anything if you'd used some common sense.
The young stranger had snapped that at her that fateful night - after she'd saved Yrene's life. The words had lingered, biting deep. As the others lessons she'd been taught by that girl. "
As a warrior, I grew up walking hand-in-hand with Death. "
A storm was coming, she was to tell any who crossed her path. But she knew one was already there.
Their only shot at salvation. Hope.
A tower full of women who can keep you from death, even if you are hanging by a thread... "
"More valuable than gold "
"Don't you waste one heartbeat being afraid of a coward who hunts women in the darkness."
“A man used to being obeyed, yes, but a man also inclined to care for others. Look after them. Driven to do it by a compulsion he couldn’t leash, couldn’t train out of him. Couldn’t have broken out of him.”
“You would be surprised by how closely the healing of physical wounds is tied to the healing of emotional ones.”
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