Cardan's face is serious, almost grave, in a way that he seldom allows himself to be. "When my father sent me way, at first i tried to prove that i was nothing like he thought me. But when that didn't work, I tried to be exactly what he believed i was instead. If he thought i was bad, i would be worse. If he thought i was cruel, i would be horrifying. I would live down to his every expectation. If i couldn't have his favor, then i would have his wrath.

Why am i the way i am?" His tone makes it clear he's proposing something i might suggest he ask, not really wondering about it. "There are no real answers,Jude.Why was i cruel to Folk? Why was i awful to you? Because I could be. Because I like it. Because, fot a moment, when i was at my worst, i felt powerful, and most of the time, i felt powerless, despite being a prince and the son of the High King of Faerie.

He rises from the throne. “Come, have a seat.” His voice is replete with danger, lush with menace. The flowering branches have sprouted thorns so thickly that petals are barely visible.“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks. “What you sacrificed everything for. Go on. It’s all yours.

Go ahead. Insult me." His eyebrows go up. "I don't take commands from mortals," he says with his customary cruel smile.

El te odia. Incluso si te desea, te odia.Tal vez te odia más por eso.

Si tú eres la enfermedad, supongo que no puedes ser también la cura.