Sankt Petyr, renowned for his bravery, on the right; the slender,
bone-handled blade she’d named for Sankta Alina on the left. She recited
the names of her other knives, too. Sankta Marya and Sankta Anastasia
strapped to her thighs. Sankt Vladimir hidden in her boot, and Sankta
Lizabeta snug at her belt, the blade etched in a pattern of roses. Protect me, protect me. She had to believe her Saints saw and understood the things she did to survive.