Sword Catcher

A soft voice. Soft voices were like soft hands: They belonged to noble folk, the sort who didn’t have to shout to be listened to.

(Kel always called it a fortress, not an orphanage. It was much more dashing to live in a fortress than in a place you went because nobody wanted you.)

“I think you are a broken person,” she whispered. “Since you have been given whatever you wanted, all of your life, and never been told no, I don’t see how you could have been anything else. I suppose it is not your fault.”