Alec’s breath caught. He found he could not stop holding it, as if he could save it for the child Magnus had been.

Oh no, Raphael, please don't leave me," Magnus said in a monotone. "Where would I be without the light of your sweet smile? If you go, I will throw myself upon the ground and weep." "Will you?" asked Raphael, raising one thin eyebrow. "Because if you do, I will stay and watch the show.

The melody rolled over her, as cool and sweet as water, as hopeful and lovely as sunrise.

I was hoping they would put up flyers like they do for lost cats." He said. "Missing, one stunningly attractive teenage boy. Answers to 'Jace' or 'hotstuff'." "You did not just say that." "You don't like 'hotstuff'? You think 'sweet cheeks' might be better? "Love crumpet'? Really? That last one's stretching it a bit. Though, technically my family is British-

Sweet pea?'" Alec said. "I was just trying it out." Alec shook his head. "No." Magnus shrugged. "I'll keep at it.

The most remarkable thing about him were his eyes. They were laughing eyes, at once both joyous and tender: they were the radiant pale blue of a sky slipping toward evening in Heaven, when angels who had been sweet all day found themselves tempted to sin.

I suspect he's sweet on Sophie and doesn't like to see her work too hard.' Tessa was glad to hear it. She'd felt awful about her reaction to Sophie's scar, and the thought that Sophie had a male admirer - and a handsome one like that- eased her conscience slightly. 'Perhaps he's in love with Agatha', she said. 'I hope not. I intend to marry Agatha myself. She may be a thousand years old, but she makes an incomparable jam tart. Beauty fades, but cooking is eternal.

He could smell her morality, the sweet rot of corruption