Grace Draven

she’d thanked him for not bespelling her off the cliff.

“Keep your thanks,” he told her. “And an eye on your ale. I’m brewing something that turns shrews into toads.”

“While you’re at it, brew something that bestows courtesy and swallow a cup or two yourself,” she shot back

Strength without cruelty, pride without arrogance and an iron perseverance

When he died, Louvaen thought someone had reached into her chest, bashed a few of her ribs along the way, and pulled her heart out of her body.

He hadn’t known it was possible to embrace lightning until he’d held her, and the experience had left him exhilarated

He shook his head. “You hold false hope, my friend.”

Ambrose’s eyes flashed annoyance. “It’s still hope, dominus.

Moments of rebellion couldn’t conquer a lifetime of obedience