She's magic, Cassandra. A single flower blooming in an endless desert.

Why?"He stopped pacing and looked at her as if she'd just asked him to count every leaf on every tree in the Old Place. "Because... you're you.

The sweatshirt was big on her and she looked ridiculous. He liked it. And he liked that she was wearing something that carried his scent.

Daemon clung to Surreal as she flew along the Winds, too weak to argue, too spent to care. His heart, however... His heart held on fiercely to Jaenelle's soft, sighing caress of his name.Everything has a price.