It continued to be hell for several long months. And I only say for several months because after that, things got even worse.

I kept careful track of how many times I died, and I’d died twenty-seven times by the time I was beheaded. Each time I’d just begin to recover from an injury, Leander would decide I was due for another lesson in death, and shortly afterwards I was always due for a lesson on living with pain, and so on. I could never catch a break. When I wasn’t dead, I was u...