I have, for mortals, the feeling of falling in love is very much like the feeling of fear.

I love my parents' murderer; I suppose I could love anyone.

Bésame de nuevo. Bésame hasta que esté harto de ello.

What is a king without a crown? That’s a riddle, but one to which we all know the answer: no king at all.

But kissing Locke never felt the way that kissing Cardan does, like taking a dare to run over knives, like an adrenaline strike of lightning, like the moment when you've swum too far out in the sea and there is no going back, only cold black water closing over your head.

His words were still clear in her mind from that first meeting. "Whoever eats this will love you." She looked into the mirror, at her birthmark, bright as blood, at her kiss-stung lips, at the absurd smile stretching across her face.Carefully separating out the crushed pieces of shell, she pulled the dried pulp free from its cage of veins. Piece by piece, she put the sweet brown fruit in her own mouth and swallowed it down.

Mortals are fragile," I say."Not you," he says in a way that sounds a little like a lament. "You never break."Which is ridiculous, as hurt as I am. I feel like a constellation of wounds, held together with string and stubbornness. Still, I like hearing it. I like everything he's saying all too well.That boy is your weakness.

Cardan looks at me as though he's never seen me before. He looks at me as though no one has ever spoken to him like this. Maybe no one has.

Cardan grins at me as though we've been great friends all our lives. I forgot how charming he can be--and how dangerous that is.