Samantha turns toward us as we enter and her mouth drops open. “You.” Pure joy floods her face like sunlight falling through storm clouds, and she runs up to me, laying hands on either side of my face as she gazes deeply into my eyes. “There you are.

Why can’t I have my own life?!

The thunder of horses’ hooves grows ever louder, but, still, I do not move. The thunder of those hooves, the thudding of my heart, and the gasping in my lungs make such a cacophony, it’s a wonder I hear Edmund at all.

Oh-ho, so you are a witch. More like a witchling, as you're too small to be a full witch.” (Emmerich)

Emmerich's heart in his throat, he could only stare down at Monica, who looked up at him with glassy eyes as she shivered with pain and choked on blood.

Before she could let herself think, Clara burst from the door and bolted for the table. People just began turning when she grasped the guest and shoved him to the ground, the chair flying backwards. Wine and food spilled everywhere as he flung out his arms. For a moment, she felt a swift pressure, as if her hair was being pulled, before strong hands gripped her, flinging her to the floor. A boot pressed into her back and she felt the cold tip of blade on her neck above her slave's collar.

Gavin scratched his head, idly wondering what his father would tell him right about then. Probably steal the slave and run. Father's solution was always to steal and run. But he had a job to finish. "All right," he said finally, "here's what we'll do. We'll pretend this night didn't happen." That earned another sarcastic look.