"How one can never truly leave. And never quite return. Do you understand?"
"The older she grows, the farther she walks. It is a good thing the world is round and she is fond of walking in circles or else she might disappear across three times nine countries in the thirtieth tsardom!"
"Everything is connected,' stated Rachel. 'Patterns everywhere."
"Marry me, Rachel.'
'Tomorrow, Rachel. Marry me.'
'There is no common blood between us. Say it,' pleads Zachariah.
'There is no common blood between us,' murmurs Rachel.
'I am not your brother.'
He traces her face with his swollen fingers, across the brow bones and down the zygomatics, and along the jaw from earlobe to chin, sweeping away the brine as he goes.