Wraith Quotes

Besides, she was the Wraith – the only law that applied to her was gravity, and some days she defied that, too.

She was not a lynx or a spider or even the Wraith. She was Inej Ghafa, and her future was waiting above.

He was going to break my legs,” she said, her chin held high, the barest quaver in her voice. “Would you have come for me then, Kaz? When I couldn’t scale a wall or walk a tightrope? When I wasn’t the Wraith anymore?” Dirtyhands would not. The boy who could get them through this, get their money, keep them alive, would do her the courtesy of putting her out of her misery, then cut his losses and move on. “I would come for you,” he said, and when he saw the wary look she shot him, he said it again. “I would come for you. And if I couldn’t walk, I’d crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we’d fight our way out together—knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that’s what we do. We never stop fighting.

She vanished over the side of the chapel. Kaz stood there, staring at the place she’d been only seconds before. She’d tricked him. The decent, honest, pious Wraith had outsmarted him. He turned to look back at the long expanse of roof he was going to have to traverse to get back to the boat. “Curse you and all your Saints,” he said to no one at all, then realized he was smiling.

Geez, you guys. I know I'm popular and all, but seriously, you're a bit too co-dependent for me. I'm going to need you to step away from my personal bubble." A wispy vine-woman curled ivy tendrils around his arm, and he sliced through them with his dagger. "No! Bad Wraith! No touchie!

Congratulations on the new spawn, by the way." "Well," Gem said, "that was better than what Wraith said." She lowered her voice and did an imitation of Wraith. "Way cool about the fuck-trophy.

Sin Fever," Wraith chimed in with a little too much enjoyment. Sin Fever? They'd named the fucking disease after her? Bastards.

Staring at the wraith’s left hand, Zam saw a stump where its index finger should have been and knew then that the severed finger moving around in his pocket belonged to the wraith.

This should never have happened, Brishen. We were unimportant, you and I. We weren't supposed to mean anything to anyone." "Woman of day," he said slowly. "You mean everything to me.

Kaz,” said Nina. “You may not be glad we’re alive, but we’re glad you’re alive. Come here!” “Leave him be,” murmured Inej softly. “Saints, Wraith,” said Jesper. “You’re bleeding.” “Should I call a doctor?” asked Jesper’s father. “No!” they all replied in unison. “Of course not,” said Colm. “Should I ring for coffee?” “Yes, please,” said Nina.

You're been out a few hours. E and I have been taking turns staying with you. Tayla's here. And Gem. Luc. Kynan. Reaver. Our other brother, but he's in chains. He's also a total dick. You'll like him." (Shade telling Wraith)

Why are you all here?" "One of Bantazar's assassins hit you with an exomangler," Lore said. "He's dead." "A lot dead." Wraith snorted and high-fived Lore. "Massive deadness.

They will be like shadows, they will be like wraiths, gray members of a congregation of nightmare; hark! his long wavering howl . . . an aria of fear made audible. The wolfsong is the sound of the rending you will suffer, in itself a murdering.

I inclined my head slightly, and lowered my shield only long enough to say down the bond: To the dreams that answered. A heartbeat later a sensual caress trailed along my mental shields—a polite request. I let it drop, let him in, and his voice filled my head. To the huntresses who remember to reach back for those less fortunate—and water-wraiths who swim very, very fast.

You make a very handsome dead eel, my husband,” “For a boiled mollusk, you wear black quite well, my wife,

He swept the red cloak around Inej's shoulders in a rain of petals and blossoms as she continued to strap on her knives. She looked almost as startled as the flower seller. "What?" he asked as he tossed her a Mister Crimson mask that matched his own. "Those were my mother's favorite flower." "Good to know Van Eck didn't cure you of sentiment." "Nice to be back, Kaz." "Good to have you back, Wraith.

You named your son’s pet after a rabid monster dog?” “No,” Thanatos growled. “Wraith did. Bastard taught the pup to respond to Cujo, and we couldn’t get him to respond to anything else after that.

Tayla cursed under her breath. "I was just explaining to Eidolon that Sin is a Smurfette." Wraith swung his big body around to study Sin with blue eyes that were very different from Shade's, E's. and Lore's. Sin's, too. "Nah. Smurfette is way hotter." "What the fuck is a Smurfette?" Eidolon was seriously getting annoyed now. "There's this cartoon called The Smurfs," Tayla explained, slowly, as though Eidolon were the child here. "They're these little blue people, and they're all male. But one day a female shows up. She shouldn't exist, but she does." Eidolon considered that for a second. "How did she get there?" "An evil wizard named Gargamel made her," Tayla said. "In a lab or something." "So you're suggesting that an evil wizard made Sin?" "Of course not, silly. I'm just saying she's a Smurfette. A lone female amongst males." Eidolon frowned. "Did the Smurfette mate with the males?" "Dude." Wraith grimaced. "It's a cartoon.

Horror Hotel, as wraith called Shade's house. "Vampires, demons, and werewolves check in... and then they make out, and-

What did you say to Van Eck on the bridge?” Kaz asked at last. “When we were making the trade?” “You will see me once more, but only once.” “More Suli proverbs?” “A promise to myself. And Van Eck.” “Careful, Wraith. You’re ill-suited to the revenge game. I’m not sure your Suli Saints would approve.” “My Saints don’t like bullies.

No. It was because it was the first time I made love to anyone. You can call me a liar or anything else, but do not doubt me on this. And I swear to you that you were the first, and you will be the last. ~Wraith

Dream tonight of peacock tails, Diamond fields and spouter whales. Ills are many, blessings few, But dreams tonight will shelter you. Let the vampire's creaking wing Hide the stars while banshees sing; Let the ghouls gorge all night long; Dreams will keep you safe and strong. Skeletons with poison teeth, Risen from the world beneath, Ogre, troll, and loup-garou, Bloody wraith who looks like you, Shadow on the window shade, Harpies in a midnight raid, Goblins seeking tender prey, Dreams will chase them all away. Dreams are like a magic cloak Woven by the fairy folk, Covering from top to toe, Keeping you from winds and woe. And should the Angel come this night To fetch your soul away from light, Cross yourself, and face the wall: Dreams will help you not at all.

Do not underestimate the strength it takes to be kind in a world as cruel as ours.

Okay, listen. From what Shade said, Roag got toasted like a burnt marshmallow. He would have been nearly destroyed, right down to his junk." Wraith grinned. “Which is really fucking funny.

My Wraith would counsel mercy. But thanks to you, she's not here to plead your case.

Wraith rubbed his hands together in cheesy horror-movie glee. “Join us or die.” He grinned. “I’ve always wanted to say that.

Good luck, man." Wraith clapped him on the shoulder. "For an angel, you don't suck." "Ditto. For a demon....well, you do suck." "Because I'm half vampire?" "Sure," Reaver said. "Let's go with that.

Fuck a motherfucking fuckduck" - Wraith

UG staff is patching up wargs, and all surviving Guardians are tied up," Wraith said, "But they could probably use some medical attention. Especially the one dipshit with the idiotic Mohawk. He lost a lot of blood." "Because you ate him," Sin said wryly. Wraith blinked with exaggerated innocence. "Fighting makes me hungry.

Rogue Squadron doesn’t run. Unless we really, really have to." "No, this will be Wraith Squadron’s mission." "We don’t mind running. Even when we don’t have to.

First, a story ends when it ends, and not a moment before. If you are unhappy with this ending, make a new one.

Because make no mistake, Serena. I do bite. ~Wraith

Wraith held up his hands. "Chill, Gramps. I don't want to sit on your knee or anything.

I would have been content to live my life as just Brishen,” he whispered into her hair.  “Who was loved by Ildiko.

I don't have to blow up everything I see... I just like to.

Slaves deserve to be remembered just as much as queens.

You volunteering to play Big Gulp? ~Wraith

I don't want to die” “I'll do my best to make other arrangements for you.” She closed her eyes. “Keep talking, Wraith. Don't slip away from me.” “But it's what I do best.

You know,' Wraith muttered, 'life was a lot easier when we hated all humans and didn't give a shit what happened to the lot of them.' He laughed. 'Okay, I couldn't say that with a straight face. I still don't give a shit'.

Yeah, you do. Because right now, I'm your best hope to defeat Byzamoth. So if you don't want to spend eternity bent over and holding your ankles for him, you'll back the fuck off. ~Wraith

You'd better, because if you've left him with anyone other than Mary fucking Poppins, there won't be enough left of you to fill a juice glass. ~Wraith

fangjerk ~Wraith

The children would remember for the rest of their lives the august solemnity with which their father, devastated by his prolonged vigil and by the wraith of his imagination, revealed his discovery to them: 'The world is round, like an orange.

I'm giving you a free shot at my blood and you're playing hard to get? What kind of vampire are you?" When Wraith just stood there, Kynan rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. My blood's eighty proof. You want it. You know you do.

Had you crawled out from under my bed when I was a child, I would have bludgeoned you to death with my father’s mace.” Brishen

Sleep here each day, Ildiko.” A sweet warmth suffused her.  She entangled her legs with his and hugged his arm to her waist.  “As you wish.  Just don’t steal the blankets.

Privilege,” she said gently, “gives the crown its shine.  Duty gives it its weight.

He allowed himself a small chuckle then.  “I will conquer kingdoms for you if you but ask it of me, Ildiko.

Taking me out to robberies, bar fights, and wraith houses isn't enough for you anymore? I though we were happy." "Only the best for you, my lady.

She made him strong; she made him weak, and in that moment, she nearly put him on his knees. 

Inej,” Wylan called from one of the rolling bins. “These are our clothes.” He reached in and, one after the other, pulled out Inej’s little leather slippers. Her face broke into a dazzling smile. Finally, a bit of luck. Kaz didn’t have his cane. Jesper didn’t have his guns. And Inej didn’t have her knives. But at least she had those magic slippers. “What do you say, Wraith? Can you make the climb?” “I can.” Jesper took the shoes from Wylan. “If I didn’t think these might be crawling with disease, I would kiss them and then you.

I play to win and if it looks like I've lost, its only because its not over yet.

So," he said, "you really think having archangels string you up by your halo is worth saving this Harvester chick?" "She saved the world" Wraith shrugged. "So did I, but I don't see you offering up your holy ass to save me." "Are you suffering unspeakable horrors at the hands of Satan?" "No," Wraith said, "but sometimes I have to eat the hospital cafeteria food.

Tayla stole a peek at the report. "What's fucked up? The Smurfette?" "The what?" "Smurfette." Tayla rolled her eyes. "You've never watched cartoons, have you?" Wraith came around the corner, his leather duster flapping around his boots. He shot Tay a look drenched with sympathy. "E's way too starched to watch cartoons. That's so not happening to Stewie. He's already digging The Simpsons." "He's three weeks old!" Tayla gaped at Wraith in outrage. "Almost four." Tayla huffed. "Good God. I can't believe you are raising a child. Isn't there some sort of demon equivalent of Child Protective Services ?" "Hey. I have as much right to screw up a kid as anyone else.

The Vamp Council hung a portrait of me on their hero wall. How's that for ironic?' 'Especially since they showed it to you just before they tortured you for Serena's turning,' Shade said. Wraith snorted again. 'Fuckers'.

I’ve been around a lot of wraiths, and he doesn’t feel like that either, though. It’s a strange sensation. Like human wrapped in evil.” – Caleb “Oh, great. Our coach is a pig-in-the-blanket for Satan.” – Nick

The past devours those naive enough to forget it.

Sort of. I can feel the arrangement of the virus or bacteria or whatever. And once I learn it, I can replicate that specific disease." She shot Conall a smirk. "Khileshi cockfire is a favorite." Wraith laughed. Conall paled. Eidolon looked at her like she was responsible for every case of the excruciating, dick-shriveling venereal disease he'd ever treated. The guy was so freaking uptight he probably starched his freaking underwear.

Wraith snorted. "Cowards. Seriously. Who brings a gun to a knife fight? That's cheating." "You don't have a gun?" Kynan asked. Wraith made a face of digust. "It's not very sporting to shoot people." "So you're saying that you didn't shoot the people who shot you?" "Hell, yeah, I shot them.

Either one of you kill him, or I will.” Shade, Wraith and Kynan raised their hands to volunteer. How special. Brotherly love ran like syrup in the room.

Mooooon!” said the Ogre. “Tranquility …” Then he pointed at the full moon. “Neil Armstrong walked in a sea of tranquility.” Then he added, “It’s made of cheese. But you have to take off the plastic before you put it on a burger.” Mikey sighed. “What’s his story?” the wraith asked. “He’s chocolate,” Mikey said.

Wraith rolled his eyes. If there was anything he hated more than cryptic shit, it was fate shit.

You come to this place, mid-life. You don’t know how you got here, but suddenly you’re staring fifty in the face. When you turn and look back down the years, you glimpse the ghosts of other lives you might have led; all houses are haunted. The wraiths and phantoms creep under your carpets and between the warp and weft of fabric, they lurk in wardrobes and lie flat under drawer-liners. You think of the children you might have had but didn’t. When the midwife says, ‘It’s a boy,’ where does the girl go? When you think you’re pregnant, and you’re not, what happens to the child that has already formed in your mind? You keep it filed in a drawer of your consciousness, like a short story that never worked after the opening lines.

Bonnyman quickly walked over to the head and picked it up by the hair. He held it in front of his face. ‘Tell me whose orders you follow,’ he said in a gentle voice that Zam didn’t think he possessed. The wraith looked past Bonnyman, staring at its body twitching on the floor. ‘Never your orders,’ it gasped, before closing its eyes forever.

The pain you have endured does not justify the pain you inflict on others.

How then does light return to the world after the eclipse of the sun? Miraculously. Frailly. In thin stripes. It hangs like a glass cage. It is a hoop to be fractured by a tiny jar. There is a spark there. Next moment a flush of dun. Then a vapour as if earth were breathing in and out, once, twice, for the first time. Then under the dullness someone walks with a green light. Then off twists a white wraith. The woods throb blue and green, and gradually the fields drink in red, gold, brown. Suddenly a river snatches a blue light. The earth absorbs colour like a sponge slowly drinking water. It puts on weight; rounds itself; hangs pendent; settles and swings beneath our feet.

This is my mind. I am the strongest person here.

see past the surface to the tides below. 

While he disliked the idea of scaring her, ignorance had killed more than its fair share of people, and he wanted her aware of the danger.

It was as if once Kaz had seen her, he’d understood how to keep seeing her.

Nothing good can come of a place that refuses to see the pain of the people on whose backs it was built.

An excellent choice to pair the scarpatine with the potato, Your Highness.  They are better together than apart.

Hey," He croaked. "You. Arrogant bitch ghost." "I'm not really into this whole hero thing," Mort said. "Don't have the temperament for it. Don't know a lot about the villain side of the equation, either." He planted his feet,facing the Corpsetaker squarely, his hands clenched into fist at his side. "But it seems to me, you half-wit, that you probably shouldn't have left a freaking ectomancer a pit full of wraiths to play with.

down the dank mouldering paths and past the Ocean's streams they went and past the White Rock and the Sun's Western Gates and past the Land of Dreams, and soon they reached the fields of asphodel where the dead, the burnt-out wraiths of mortals make their home

The Wraith is a sixteen-year-old girl currently lying unconscious on a table. She may not even survive the night." "She will," said Kaz, and something savage flashed in his eyes. Matthias suspected that Brekker would drag the girl back from hell himself if he had to.

A damsel in complete distress was a burden to her protectors; one familiar with self defence, not as much.

―What about you, Con? Shade asked, and Con took two deep, calming breaths before he answered. ―What about me? ―You aren‘t a danger to her, right? ―No, Con said levelly. ―I‘m not. But even he didn‘t believe his own words. Wraith flipped a blade in the air, a very Sin-like move. ―Okay, what the fuck is all the subtext here? He blinked when everyone stared at him. ―What? Like I don‘t know what subtext is? I watch movies. ―That‘s because you can‘t read, Tayla said brightly, and the demon shot her the finger.

I wanted you, nameless Woman of the South, No wraith, but utterly—as still more alone The Southern Cross takes night And lifts her girdles from her, one by one— High, cool, wide from the slowly smoldering fire Of lower heavens,— vaporous scars! Eve! Magdalene! or Mary, you? Whatever call—falls vainly on the wave. O simian Venus, homeless Eve, Unwedded, stumbling gardenless to grieve Windswept guitars on lonely decks forever; Finally to answer all within one grave! And this long wake of phosphor, iridescent Furrow of all our travel—trailed derision! Eyes crumble at its kiss. Its long-drawn spell Incites a yell. Slid on that backward vision The mind is churned to spittle, whispering hell. I wanted you . . . The embers of the Cross Climbed by aslant and huddling aromatically. It is blood to remember; it is fire To stammer back . . . It is God—your namelessness. And the wash— All night the water combed you with black Insolence. You crept out simmering, accomplished. Water rattled that stinging coil, your Rehearsed hair—docile, alas, from many arms. Yes, Eve—wraith of my unloved seed! The Cross, a phantom, buckled—dropped below the dawn. Light drowned the lithic trillions of your spawn.

Sithspit! What's that?' 'That's the sun, Wedge. It's after dawn.' 'Well, it offends me. Turn it off.' 'It's a hundred thirty, hundred forty million klicks from here.' 'Go up in your X-wing and shoot it down for me.

The boy, who did everything well and with a natural unslumped grace the wraith himself had always lacked, and whom the wraith had been so terribly eager to see and hear and let him (the son) know he was seen and heard, the son had become a steadily more and more hidden boy, toward the wraith's life's end; and no one else in the wraith and the boy's nuclear family would see or acknowledge this, the fact that the graceful and marvelous boy was disappearing, right before their eyes. They looked but did not see his invisibility.

I sometimes think about old tombs and weeds That interwreathe among the bones of kings With cold and poisonous berry and black flower: Or ruminate upon the skulls of steeds Frailer than shells and on those luminous wings - The shoulder blades of Princes of fled power, Which now the unrecorded sandstorms grind Into so wraith-like a translucency Of tissue-thin and aqueous bone - A Reverie of Bone

The void is vast, like the sea at night and no land in sight. I’ll be the beacon, Brishen.

You look like Eidolon,” she said quietly. “But you’re so different.” He grunted. “All Seminus demons are nearly identical to their siblings, but our behavior varies because we’re raised by different species.” “But . . . Wraith. He’s blond.” “Bleached.” “His eyes are blue.” “That’s because they aren’t his.” “They aren’t his eyes?”

There’s more.” “Of course there is,” Brishen said flatly. It had started badly; it turned worse and hinted at becoming ruinous.

Ildiko had been tempted more than a few times to cross her eyes and watch their reaction. “Don’t even think about it, wife. You’ll notice half of them are sharpening or cleaning their weapons. All I need is for someone to inadvertently slice themselves open because you startled them.

I'm serious, Brishen. Promise me you'll not get yourself killed or maimed out there." "I can't make that promise, Ildiko, but I can swear to do my best to come back with all arms and legs attached." She frowned. "Your head too, if you please." Brishen laughed then. "My head too.

Let's be clear on this, he growled. You have no idea how badly I want to be inside you. Standing up, lying down, taking you from behind. All of it. Right now. Not being able to do any of that is killing me. Literally. But strangely enough, I like just being with you. Touching you however I can, whenever I can. So no. The virginity thing is not what will keep us apart. ~Wraith

I looked for you on the Trident,” Ned said to them. “We were not there,” Ser Gerold answered. “Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” said Ser Oswell. “When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were.” “Far away,” Ser Gerold said, “or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells.” “I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege,” Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them.” “Our knees do not bend easily,” said Ser Arthur Dayne. “Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.” “Ser Willem is a good man and true,” said Ser Oswell. “But not of the Kingsguard,” Ser Gerold pointed out. “The Kingsguard does not flee.” “Then or now,” said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm. “We swore a vow,” explained old Ser Gerold. Ned’s wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three. “And now it begins,” said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light. “No,” Ned said with sadness in his voice. “Now it ends.

May the Saints receive me. She pressed the tip beneath her breast, between her ribs, an arrow to her heart. Then a hand gripped her wrist painfully, forcing her to drop the blade. “Not just yet, Inej.” The rasp of stone on stone. Her eyes flew open. Kaz. He bundled her into his arms and leapt down from the crates, landing roughly, his bad leg buckling. She moaned as they hit the ground. “Did we win?” “I’m here, aren’t I?” He must be running. Her body jounced painfully against his chest with every lurching step. He couldn’t carry her and use his cane. “I don’t want to die.” “I’ll do my best to make other arrangements for you.” She closed her eyes. “Keep talking, Wraith. Don’t slip away from me.” “But it’s what I do best.” He clutched her tighter. “Just make it to the schooner. Open your damn eyes, Inej.” She

She was halfway through the book, her eyes heavy with sleep, when the bedroom door opened.  Brishen stood at the threshold, dressed down to undertunic and trousers, his feet bare and his hair damp.  He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms.  “Woman of day, you waited for me.” Ildiko closed her book and offered him a drowsy smile.  Relief and happiness coursed through her.  “Prince of night, you’ve come back to me—your head intact.” “I promised I’d try.”  

Wraith shoved his hands in his jeans' pockets. "How long before we consider you overdue and mount a rescue party?" "Never." Reaver shrugged into his shirt. "If I don't come back, it is because I'm either dead or in a situation that's too dangerous to get me out of." "Oh," Sin said brightly-and sarcastically. "You mean like the situation Harvester is in." Seminus demons were annoying no matter what gender. "Yes. Like that." She punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Good. Glad we're clear. Try to come back soon or we'll come after you.

But even as she gave thanks, she knew that the rain was not enough. She wanted a storm – thunder, wind, a deluge. She wanted it to crash through Ketterdam’s pleasure houses, lifting roofs and tearing doors off their hinges. She wanted it to raise the seas, take hold of every slaving ship, shatter their masts, and smash their hulls against unforgiving shores. I want to call that storm, she thought. And four million kruge might be enough to do it. Enough for her own ship – something small and fierce and laden with firepower. Something like her. She would hunt the slavers and their buyers. They would learn to fear her, and they would know her by her name. The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true. She clung to the wall, but it was purpose she grasped at long last, and that carried her upwards. She was not a lynx or a spider or even the Wraith. She was Inej Ghafa, and her future was waiting above.

They would set their course toward it, seeing it grow bigger silently and imperceptibly, a motionless growth--and then, when they were at it, when they were about to bang their noses with a shock against its seeming solid mass, the sun would dim. Wraiths of mist suddenly moving like serpents of the air would coil about them for a second. Grey damp would be around them, and the sun, a copper penny, would fade away. The wings next to their own wings would shade into vacancy, until each bird was a lonely sound in cold annihilation, a presence after uncreation. And there they would hang in chartless nothing, seemingly without speed or left or right or top or bottom, until as suddenly as ever the copper penny glowed and the serpents writhed.

To man has been given the grief, often, of seeing his gods overthrown and his altars crumbling; but to the wolf and the wild dog that have come in to crouch at man's feet, this grief has never come. Unlike man, whose gods are of the unseen and overguessed, vapors and mists of fancy eluding the garmenture of reality, wandering wraiths of desired goodness and power, intangible outcroppings of self into the realm of spirit - unlike man, the wolf and the wild dog that have come into their fire find the gods in the living flesh, solid to the touch, occupying earth-space and requiring time for the accomplishment of their ends and their existence. No effort of faith is necessary to believe in such a god; no effort of will can possibly induce disbelief in such a god. There is no getting away from it. There it stands, on its two hindlegs, club in hand, immensely potential, passionate and wrathful and loving, god and mystery and power all wrapped up and around by flesh that bleeds when it is torn and that is good to eat like any flesh.

A wash of relief poured through her, along with a kindling of hope. Her bridegroom wasn't Gauri; he wasn't even human. He was, however, congenial and gracious. She had proclaimed his appearance ghastly and his honesty handsome. Ildiko still stood by both opinions. She could have done infinitely worse. More than a few Gauri women had the misfortune to marry human men with handsome faces and ghastly souls.

Resting beside her, he seemed to Ildiko a living statue, carved from dark granite into a form of supple elegance and power. He was beautiful, and the tremor change in her perception of him robbed her lungs of air. He opened both eyes suddenly, making her jump. Two shimmering gold coins stared at her unblinking. "Good evening, wife," he said in a voice raspy with the remnants of sleep. A closed-lip smile curved his mouth upward and deepened the tiny lines that fanned from the corners of his eyes. "You're staring. Do I have a fly on my nose?" Fighting down a blush at being caught gawking at her own husband, Ildiko lightly tapped the tip of his nose with one finger. "I was trying to find a way to kill it without punching you in the face. Lucky for you, it flew away.

But of all the women, Éowyn is the strongest, quite frankly, because of her weakness: she's only human. She has no special powers, no immortality, only her innate grit and drive to be something more than just a shield-maiden. And nothing whatsoever will stay her on her course. In the end, she, and her faithful companion Merry, take down the Witch King HIMSELF! She kills the one servant of Sauron that no man can kill; she kills Fear itself in what is arguably the most dramatic moment in the books. I think it is significant that the embodiment of Fear in The Lord of the Rings is slain by a woman. In fact, only a woman is capable of doing so.

Ildiko clutched his arm, unwilling to have him leave her side.  “I enjoy your touch, Brishen.” The stiffness eased from his shoulders.  He gave her a wry look and pressed his palm to the pale expanse of skin just below her collarbones.  His hand rose and fell in quick time to her breathing.  “I believe you, but this tells me you fear it as well.” She winced.  “Your teeth are so...sharp.” “They are, but I’m not careless, wife.  And if, for some unfathomable reason, I accidently bite you, you’re welcome to bite me back.” His attempt at humor worked, and Ildiko chuckled.  “Brishen—”  She offered him a toothy grin.  “These wouldn’t do much damage.” He traced the line of her collarbones with the rough pads of his fingers, their dark claws a whisper of movement across her flesh.  “You have obviously never been badly bitten by a horse.

It’ll be hard not to tease your folk sometimes.” Brishen couldn’t imagine how she might go about such a thing.  He had no idea if the Kai and the Gauri even knew the same jokes or found the same things funny.  “What do you mean?” He almost leapt out of his skin when Ildiko stared at him as both of her eyes drifted slowly down and over until they seemed to meet together, separated only by the elegant bridge of her nose. “Lover of thorns and holy gods!” he yelped and clapped one hand across her eyes to shut out the sight.  “Stop that,” he ordered. Ildiko laughed and pushed his hand away.  She laughed even harder when she caught sight of his expression.  “Wait,” she gasped on a giggle.  “I can do better.  Want to see me make one eye cross and have the other stay still?” Brishen reared back.  “No!”  He grimaced.  “Nightmarish.  I’ll thank you to keep that particular talent to yourself, wife.

The berth belongs to you too. It will always be there when—if you want to come back.” Inej could not speak. Her heart felt too full, a dry creek bed ill-prepared for such rain. “I don’t know what to say.” His bare hand flexed on the crow’s head of his cane. The sight was so strange Inej had trouble tearing her eyes from it. “Say you’ll return.” “I’m not done with Ketterdam.” She hadn’t known she meant it until she said the words. Kaz cast her a swift glance. “I thought you wanted to hunt slavers.” “I do. And I want your help.” Inej licked her lips, tasted the ocean on them. Her life had been a series of impossible moments, so why not ask for something impossible now? “It’s not just the slavers. It’s the procurers, the customers, the Barrel bosses, the politicians. It’s everyone who turns a blind eye to suffering when there’s money to be made.” “I’m a Barrel boss.” “You would never sell someone, Kaz. You know better than anyone that you’re not just one more boss scraping for the best margin.” “The bosses, the customers, the politicians,” he mused. “That could be half the people in Ketterdam—and you want to fight them all.” “Why not?” Inej asked. “One the seas and in the city. One by one.” “Brick by brick,” he said. Then he gave a single shake of his head, as if shrugging off the notion. “I wasn’t made to be a hero, Wraith. You should have learned that by now. You want me to be a better man, a good man. I—“ “This city doesn’t need a good man. It needs you.” “Inej—“ “How many times have you told me you’re a monster? So be a monster. Be the thing they all fear when they close their eyes at night. We don’t go after all the gangs. We don’t shut down the houses that treat fairly with their employees. We go after women like Tante Heleen, men like Pekka Rollins.” She paused. “And think about it this way…you’ll be thinning the competition.” He made a sound that might almost have been a laugh. One of his hands balanced on his cane. The other rested at his side next to her. She’d need only move the smallest amount and they’d be touching. He was that close. He was that far from reach. Cautiously, she let her knuckles brush against his, a slight weight, a bird’s feather. He stiffened, but he didn’t pull away. “I’m not ready to give up on this city, Kaz. I think it’s worth saving.” I think you’re worth saving. Once they’d stood on the deck of a ship and she’d waited just like this. He had not spoken then and he did not speak now. Inej felt him slipping away, dragged under, caught in an undertow that would take him farther and farther from shore. She understood suffering and knew it was a place she could not follow, not unless she wanted to drown too. Back on Black Veil, he’d told her they would fight their way out. Knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that’s what we do. She would fight for him, but she could not heal him. She would not waste her life trying. She felt his knuckles slide again hers. Then his hand was in her hand, his palm pressed against her own. A tremor moved through him. Slowly, he let their fingers entwine.