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Lore Alemeyu collected stories like the raven that lived above the apothecary hoarded shiny pebbles.
“I don’t see any ladies here. Just a little mouse with a shockingly filthy mouth.”
“My favorite stories are the ones I can escape into. The ones where I can leave behind this bleak existence and be somebody else, even if just for a little while. Someone braver than me. Someone with the power to change their circumstances.”
“If I let you go, they will kill me. If I turn you in, they will kill you. What would you have me do? What have you done to me, Lore?”
“Yes, I did.” Finndryl’s voice was quiet as he spoke. “And I’ll kill you for touching her.”
“I don’t usually read books more than once.” “Why not?” Lore thought of all the books she’d read again and again. Some of them she could almost recite word for word. Rereading a favorite book was like coming home after a long time away.
“I’m glad I have you on my side, Asher. I don’t ever want to find out what it’s like to be your enemy.” He threw his head back and laughed. “You don’t have to worry about that, my little mouse.”
“You have never had a very good sense of self-preservation. Always running headfirst into danger. I sometimes wonder if you have a bit of adrenaline-seeking behavior, Mouse.”
“You’re a work of art. Your maker must have spent forever perfecting you.”
He licked her slit before devouring her like she was an antidote and he was on the brink of death from poison.
