[ Alistair gives him a brief, flat look, disinterested in debating what he's allowed to joke about or any sort of Templar lecture about the horrors of blood magic Cade might have prepared. Nearly every Orlesian Warden he's known over the last twelve years died as a sacrifice, and the rest he last saw bound to demons in the Anderfels. He knows.

But whatever. ]

Yes, well, [ he says, ] you can't be sure that anyone won't hurt you. That isn't how people work. There are men who—hurt little girls, instead of boys, too, but most of them don't, and you can't go around assuming they all do. I don't know what else to tel you.