"Maybe it could be better," Inej says one day, her hand barely brushing against his; he still shivers at the hint of a touch, his bare fingers flexing in the desire to seek out the warmth of her palm. "Ketterdam… Maybe it could be something kinder."

"Ketterdam chews innocence and spits it out," he rasps, his hand aching for her gentle touch once more. "It destroys hope," he continues, refusing to so much as glance at her and see what he stomps on dimmer and break in her eyes, "and it gives nothing back."