A Restless Truth (Last Binding #2)

by Freya Marske

How did one attain that kind of confidence, and that ability to not so much prod one’s relatives with sticks as hurl an entire armful of javelins in their direction?

Maud had never quite picked up the knack of conversation with Edwin Courcey. She loved him for how happy he made her brother, but he had a way of looking at you as though he saw all your worst qualities and was waiting to have them turned onto himself like knives.

She had no idea how really promiscuous women kept strings of lovers all at one time. Surely one would need vast organisational skills, or a secretary.

Hawthorn had said that allowing a menagerie the run of the ship was the equivalent of trying to kill an ant by dropping a grand piano upon it, but he was unable to deny the fact that it would work.

Hawthorn waved that aside. “My sister . . .” He grimaced. “She was a little like you.” “Really?” “I would have followed her anywhere,” he said. “Into any battle.”