" He glanced up at her and somehow he’d come back to himself, contained all that terrible sorrow and anger and fear, enough to make ten strong men fall down like babes. Maximus held it all inside of him and straightened his shoulders, his chin level, and Artemis couldn’t understand it—where he got the strength to hide that awful, bloody wound in his soul—but she admired him for it. Admired him and loved him. She felt an answering wound open within her own soul, a kind of faint reflection of all the pain he’d endured, just because she cared for him. "