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“You have done an unwise thing, Martise of Asher,�� he said softly. “You’ve caught my interest.”
― Grace Draven, Master of Crows

“And will you love me for a day? A year? A lifetime?" She knew the answer but wanted to hear him say it in that beautiful, shattered voice.
"Beyond that," he whispered, eyes shining with the tempest of emotion he'd held in check until now. "Beyond the reign of false gods and meddlesome priests. Beyond al Zafira when her bright stars fade.”
― Grace Draven, Master of Crows

“He loved her to the point of madness, to obsession and even sacrifice. He wasn't Berdikhan, and he wouldn't make her Zafira. He'd rob her of her Gift, but she'd live. If he had to destroy Corruption, Conclave and himself, she'd live.”
― Grace Draven, Master of Crows

“Martise, lower your knife. There are more than a few people eager to carve out my heart. You'll have to take your place in line.”
― Grace Draven, Master of Crows

“Come in, Martise." Silhara's voice was almost sibilant in the darkness as he tagged on her hand. "There are no soul eaters here."

No, she thought. Only heart thieves.”
― Grace Draven, Master of Crows

“I don't need you on your back for anything Martise, unless you want to go star-gazing with me.”
― Grace Draven, Master of Crows

“He didn't think it possible to sign sewage-sucking-excuse-of-a-baseborn-bilge-rat but somehow Gurn managed.”
― Grace Draven, Master of Crows

“He snagged two more pieces of wood from her load for good measure. "Martise, bearing children is woman's work. Gurn and I would be sitting in the dark every night if we waited for some wandering female to pick up sticks for us.”
― Grace Draven, Master of Crows