My emotions still held a stubborn hope that humans could be loyal, that they could hold out against the promise of an easy life. But I knew better.
If Puck was dead, my world would become as cold and lifeless as the darkest night in the Winter Court.
I love her.
Everyone says the Summer Queen is stunning, beautiful, absolutely captivating. Yeah, I guess she is, but so is a volcanic eruption.
Remind me to kill Grimalkin next time we see him.
You know,” Jackal said, kicking a rabid in the face, sending it reeling, “it seems that whenever I’m with you, I’m constantly fighting my way into places I really don’t want to be. The sewers, the Prince’s tower, a bloody freaking church.
The faery lords are immortal. Those who have songs ballads and stories written about them never die. Belief worship imagination we were born of the dreams and fears of mortals and if we are remembered even in some small way we will always exist.
Well, that’s convenient,” Puck mused. “I really need to get a few of those things.
We were born from their dreams, their fears and imaginations. We are the product of their hearts and minds. Without a soul we are immortal, yet empty. Remembered, we exist. Forgotten, we die. And when we die, we simply fade away, as if we never existed at all.
Fear not for I am a cat.
My eyes prickled as Ash leaned in and kiss me. A particulary loud snore came from the cave, and the lump in the corner rolled toward us suspiciously.
Whatever happens, we’re together now. Always.
I would not worry about that, mortal. No one ever leaves the Nevernever completely sane.
Mortals have perfected the art of not seeing what they don’t expect to be there.
Leaving would imply suitcases and empty drawers, and late birthday cards with ten-dollar bills stuffed inside.
If we are talking about choice and regret, what has happened cannot be undone. And dwelling on the past changes nothing. You will only drive yourself to insanity if you do.
This is all quite fascinating,” Grimalkin said, his voice slurring in my ears, “but instead of posing and scratching the ground like rutting peacocks, perhaps you should look to the girl.
They got married and, as humans do, began to drift apart.
It tasted of twilight and mist, moonlight and frost, emptiness and longing.
Oh, isn’t that sweet,” came Jackal’s loud, mocking voice... “Let’s make goo-goo eyes at each other in the middle of a stinking corpse field, how very romantic.