Pierrot. How . . . odd for you. You’re much more the Harlequin, I should think.’’
‘‘I’ve always thought that Pierrot was the secretly dangerous one,’’ Myrnin said. ‘‘All that
innocence must hide something.’’
Bishop laughed. ‘‘I’ve missed you, fool.’’
‘‘Truly? Odd. I haven’t missed you at all, my lord.’’
That stopped Bishop’s laughter in its tracks, and Claire felt the fear close around her, like
suffocating cold. ‘‘Ah, I remember now why you ceased to amuse, Myrnin. You use
honesty like a club.’’
‘‘I thought it more like a rapier, lord.

Rachel Caine

Rachel Caine