me—ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be done.” Taking her wrist, he turned her hand, slashing a line across her palm. Ignoring her cry, more out of surprise than pain, he continued with the chant. “You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me, for I am a free person. But I shall serve you in those ways you require. And the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand.”
