Hanne’s laugh was brittle, cold and sudden, hail on window-pane. “Oh, I know it. Like something to be conquered. A Brum to be bent to his will. I understand where his cruelty comes from. He’s spent too long envying others and hating himself. I know that disease.”
She clutched her coat tight against the chill in the air. There was nothing else to do but keep moving forward. You chose your path. You walked it. You hoped to find a way home again.
“I can still pick up a rifle. I was a soldier before I was a Saint.”
I like this one. She’s unafraid. Juris’ whisper, an echo of Zoya’s own grudging thoughts about the orphan girl she’d once resented and despised. The dragons’s laugh rumbled through her. Loss has made her bold. If only I could say the same of you.