"This is infatuation, Grimm.” Lizaveta's voice did not seem as harsh and unpleasant as it once had. “The first manifestation of love."

"I feel it, Prioress,” Grimm forced the words past his parched lips and tongue, “but I still detest you. It's a false emotion. It comes from you, not from me."

"Shall we kiss him?” the Prioress crooned, leaning close to Grimm, her lips only inches away from his. “Shall we make sweet communion together?"

"If you try, I'll bite your tongue off!"

Lizaveta laughed, and Grimm fought to retain his hatred for the Prioress. He dug his fingernails into his palms and bit his lower lip hard, denying the overwhelming sensations of desire.

I am a Mage Questor! he screamed inside his head. She cannot overcome my will, however powerful she may be!

"I believe you could, young Afelnor,” the nun said. “You are indeed powerful, as I hoped, so I won't risk you breaking the control we have over you. Changing your mind will be a challenge, and I have never been one to shrink from a challenge. I am also very, very patient."

"So am I.” Grimm gasped. “So why not spare us both the bother? The spells you placed on me only worked because I didn't want to hurt Drex, and I don't want to kill the Dominie. You can't make me kill him, so forget the idea. Thorn will never be Dominie as long as I have breath in my body."

Lizaveta cackled again, this time shaking with mirth as tears rolled down her cheeks. “My traitorous son thinks I know so little of his pathetic machinations, but I know full well he intended you to kill me so I would leave him in peace. Thorn is no longer my son, and he lives only because it amuses me to let him think he knows something I don't. I have tolerated his disobedience and treachery for long enough. I don't care what happens to him at all."