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a small, spiraling dagger
He was so broad with his use of it that some henchmen had to duck out of the way as he gestured.
he wouldn’t use his big-boy words
Ten whole years she’d spent adrift, the same as Myke Lycroft. But she had never started plotting a way to return to her glory. If anything, she’d been shrinking herself smaller and smaller, desperate to be seen as nothing at all.
They took great pleasure not just in the unfolding chaos, but the promise of killing the one and only Vandra Ravenfall, even if it meant they’d die doing it.
Vandra had an easier time without Elowen. Even though Elowen herself had just thought it, she didn’t appreciate Vandra confirming the assumption.
Fear and desire both were no heroes. They were rogues.
the strange sensation that the vision they’d just left was what was real, while the cave in which she found herself was the conjuration.
When he started dating Thessia,
horseball cap
“This is good,” Vandra said. “They will assume all of you are impersonating the Four to pay homage to Grandhart. And that I’m doing a jaw-dropping impression of the cunning new woman from the latest quest.”
Elowen, like most Mythrians, saw the Ghosts as what they were, dead heroes from their past, forever honored for how they’d brought Mythria to life. These men saw them as something much grander. They really believed the Ghosts walked again, reborn to save Mythria once more. Where the Ghosts were, none of them could say . . .
insouciant.
Could she not have one moment without Clares of any kind?
While Robert de Noughton was not a great man, he was not an evil man, either. With patience and the wisdom of his mistakes, he might make a decent one.
It was funny how retreading old roads could lead to new destinations.
I love how you know firsthand that this realm has some really bad people in it, but you still choose to greet each day with kindness.
While Beatrice urgently pressed the spelled runes on the wall, prompting the doors to slide shut,
How he loved her laugh. It was like the glimpse one could catch of the crescent moon in daylight on summer evenings when the sun had not entirely set.
Without submitting Cris into peril now, worse consequences would be visited on the entire realm. Would the notion have comforted Galwell? Perhaps. It did not comfort him. All he could do was smile weakly at Cris, hoping his impersonator did not die tonight.
“You followed Galwell into danger,” she pointed out. “Perhaps it was harder for him to lead you than you thought.
Beatrice found herself strangely moved. Vermillion Vale was nowhere poets wrote of, yet . . . she found so much beauty in the night surrounding her. The Vale overflowed with expression, with hope and struggle. With people. With life.
The captain in charge of himselves.
revel room
It smelled like body odor and perfume oils had gotten into a war that neither side could ever win.

