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440 pages, Hardcover
First published May 18, 2010

Mae grabbed Nick's arm and he whirled on her, then caught himself and stood looking down at her with his pulse thudding against her palm and the knife still in his hand.
She lifted her chin. "Oh, put that away."
Nick put it away. "Just making a point."
"Yes, I took your point," Jamie muttered. "Right up against my throat."
Mae looked away from Nick and walked quickly toward the wall, scrambling over it and trying so hard to make the climb look easy that she skinned her elbow as she did so. She pretended it didn't sting.
Nick did not try to help Alan over the wall this time around. He stood with his hands clenched into fists in his pockets as they all waited for Alan to get over on his own.
"I wasn't trying to hurt you," he told Jamie suddenly.
Mae reached out and touched Nick's shoulder. Her hand brushed muscle, braced and tense under her palm, for a moment. Then he shied away from her and glared.
She smiled as if this reaction was perfectly normal. "Sometimes when you pull knives on people, they get this impression that you're going to hurt them, and then they're completely terrified. Crazy, I know!"
"Okay," said Nick. He turned to Jamie and popped his left wrist sheath again. "Look."
Jamie backed up. "Which part of 'completely terrified' did you translate as 'show us your knives, Nick'? Don't show me your knives, Nick. I have no interest in your knives."
Nick rolled his eyes. "This is a quillon dagger. That's a knife with a sword handle. I like it because it has a good grip for stabbing."
"Why do you say these things?" Jamie inquired piteously. "Is it to make me sad?"
"I didn't have you cornered," Nick went on. "You could've run. And this dagger doesn't have an even weight distribution; it's absolute rubbish for throwing. If I had any intention of hurting you, I'd have used a knife I could throw."
Jamie blinked. "I will remember those words always. I may try to forget them, but I sense that I won't be able to."