She didn’t bother to say, But you’ll be waiting in darkness. Nor did she say, If I vanish immediately into the lake, you’ll have to find your way out of here sightless. Because he’d already known both these things when he had given it to her.
Ganseys were creatures of habit, and he wanted Adam here, and he wanted Noah here, and he wanted everyone to like him, and he wanted to be in charge.
I probably can’t stop you from meeting him anyway,” Maura said. “I mean, if Neeve is right about why you saw him. You’re fated to meet him.” “Fate,” Blue replied, glowering at her mother, “is a very weighty word to throw around before breakfast.
But I’d known when I started this whole thing that we were different in this important way: Isabel had spent her teen years caring who touched her, and I hadn’t.
Noah had been living when he was murdered. Gansey had been marking time.
She could not tell if they would be unable to have conversations because they would both want something from the other that was impossible. She could not tell if it was safer to stop a love story before it ever truly got under way.
Why did he care if Gansey and Ronan saw this? They already knew. They knew everything about him. What a lie unknowable was. The only person who didn’t know Adam was himself.
Ronan replied, ‘I’m waiting for you to tell me what to do, Gansey. Tell me where to go.
What words he did unsheathe turned out to be knives, glinting and edged and unpleasant to have stuck into you.
All this time she’d been wondering how Gansey might die and it turned out she was going to strangle him.
No one in the house ever really doubted that Blue was destined to kill her true love with a kiss.
It was this: Blue, teetering on the edge of offense, saying, I don’t understand why you keep saying such awful things about Koreans. About yourself. And Henry saying, I will do it before anyone else can. It is the only way to not be angry all of the time.
But the problem with being weird was that everyone else was normal.
This was the dream: sitting in the passenger seat of Joseph Kavinsky’s Mitsubishi, the odor of a crash clinging to Ronan’s clothing, the white dash lights carving Kavinsky a gaunt and wild face, foully seductive lyrics spitting from the speakers, the vein-covered peaks of Kavinsky’s knuckles on the gearshift between them.
There was something musical about Ronan when he swore, a careful and loving precision to the way he fit the words together, a black-painted poetry. It was far less hateful sounding than when he didn’t swear.
When he turned his head she saw him swallow. He mumbled, ‘I’d ask you out, if I was alive.’ Nothing was fair. ‘I’d say okay,’ she replied. She only had time to see him smile faintly. And then he was gone. She rolled back in the middle of the suddenly empty bed. Above her, the rafters glowed with the summer sun. Blue touched her mouth. It felt the same way as it always did. Not at all like she has just gotten her first and last kiss.
Gansey bumped fists with Adam and they nodded at each other. It was stupid, inadequate.
His thoughtless expression was one of wonder or of pain; with Gansey, they were so often the same thing.
His fatigued brain slid out from under him.
Gansey had said, with disgust, Stop saying privilege. Love isn’t privilege. But Gansey had always had love, had always been capable of love. Now that Adam had discovered this feeling in himself, he was more certain than ever that he was right. Need was Adam’s baseline, his resting pulse. Love was a privilege. Adam was privileged; he did not want to give it up. He wanted to remember again and again how it felt.