I have always known you, my love,” Cecily said. “You are the gem of my heart. My firstborn. My Anna.
And I am afraid that the span of time that we have together may not be long.” “That has always been the case with us,” Will said. “But let us be grateful to your terrifying friend, because however long we have, here we are together and I see no sign of yin fen on you, and we are in possession of the knowledge that there was never any curse on me. For however long, there is no shadow on us.
Jonathan Wayland shrugged. “I applied to the Iron Sisters, but they sent me a hurtful and sexist refusal.
After all, when you were dying of thirst, it was the sip of water you dreamed about, not the whole reservoir.
There was a dead mouse in the sink. Maybe someone had left it there to welcome them. Maybe it was a festive gift.
You look like a strip-o-gram,” Julian said to Malcolm Fade, High Warlock of Los Angeles.
I let you come to my salon because you amuse me, Matthew Fairchild. Because you are a child – a silly and beautiful child, who touches fire because it is lovely, and forgets that it will burn him.
Aline cleared her throat. “Emma and Julian,” she said. “I don’t know you that well, and this giant thing is admittedly a huge surprise. That wasn’t a pun. I was being literal.
Tessa, Will, and Jem had raised James in love, and had surrounded him with love and the goodness it could produce. But they had given him no armor against the evil. They had wrapped his heart in silks and velvet, and then he had given it to Grace Blackthorn, and she had spun for it a cage of razor wire and broken glass, burned it to bits, and blown away the remains, another layer of ashes in this place of beautiful horrors.
He had left his boyfriend in Alicante, at his father’s house. Alec’s sister, Isabelle, was staying there too.
Magnus Bane appeared in their kitchen, wrapped in a long black coat, his right hand sparking blue fire, his expression thunderous.“Why in the names of the nine princes of Hell are neither of you answering your phone?” he demanded.
I’m a swot,” said James. “I read books all the time and I do not know how to talk to people. If I was a girl living in olden times, people would call me a bluestocking. I wish I could talk to people like you do. I wish I could smile at people and make them like me. I wish I could tell a story and have everybody listen, and have people follow me around wherever I went. Well, no, I don’t, because I am slightly terrified by people, but I wish I could do all that you can do, just the same.
If I have to, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you that you can be certain of me.
I don’t like the thought of you going away.
You’re too skinny,” she said. “Too much coffee, not enough pancakes.
The night was very beautiful and warm, and they were both young.
Fire tests gold. In this fire we will be tested, and we will shine out.
It had been a long time, and she had never imagined something quite like this: Moonlight and flowers were for other people.
If you believe only in facts and forget stories, your brain will live, but your heart will die.
Or he could take the step out into nothingness and choose Magnus, the far stranger poetry of him, his brilliance and anger, his sulks and joys, the extraordinary abilities of his magic and the no less breathtaking magic of the extraordinary way he loved.