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For those who’ve had to put one foot in front of the other, even when it was really hard.
It was always nothing. But one of these times, it might be something. A grimwolf or a bear or a vampire deer or, worse, a man.
It is a man’s world in which we live, Skraeda, her queen had told her, in that calming voice of hers. Let them think us lambs, when truly, we are wolves.
“Because it takes a small man to be ruled by fear and a large one to show mercy. And anyone can see you are no small man.”
“Malla’s tits,” muttered Rey, dragging a hand down his face. “Tell me she did not just apologize to a rock.”
“Isn’t this just what you want? To argue with me? Does it not excite you? Bring a thrill to your blood?” “Does it thrill you to anger me?” she snapped. “Yes.” His honesty startled her. “It brings a spark to your eyes.”
“And I wonder if the dowdy dresses and act of innocence are a trick, because good, sweet girls do not have a tongue as sharp and wicked as yours. And merciful gods, Silla. I am no good man, because all I can think of is drawing you into my furs and discovering what else that tongue is capable of.”
And her personal favorite, “You cause me to weep, woman, and it is not from happiness.”
“Not killing you when I discovered you in our wagon will be a thing I regret until my last breath.”
