He moved to sniff some white-and-yellow flowers.A nightmare. This was a nightmare. “You can’t really like flowers.”Again those dark eyes shifted to her. Blinked once. I most certainly do, he seemed to say.

Well," Lucien said, his remaining russet eye fixed on me, "you don't look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, since you're to live with us. Though the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress."Wolves ready to pounce - that's what they were, just like their friend. I was all to aware of my diction, of the very breath I took as I said, "I'd prefer not to wear that dress""And why not?" Lucien crooned.It was Tamlin who answered for me. "Because killing us is easier in pants.

There were many, many debts to be paid before she left Rifthold and took back her throne. Starting now. Fortunate that she was in a killing sort of mood.

Sam's hand brushed her shoulder, and she almost jumped out of her skin as he brought his mouth close to her ear and murmured, "You look beautiful. Though I bet you already know that." She most certainly did.

Are we really going to play truths and lies? Just tell us, you bastard.

I'm talking to the House. Which is a considerable step up from talking to you.""It doesn't talk back.""Exactly.

Your skills when it comes to complimenting women are unparalleled.

When you shift, will your hawk form be plucked, then?

I heard a story," Aedion drawled to Rowan, "that you killed an enemy warlord using a table." "Please,"Aelin said. "Who the hell told you that?""Quinn-your uncle's Captain of the Guard. He was an admirer of Prince Rowan's. He knew all the stories."Aelin slid her eyes to Rowan, who smirked, bracing his sparring stick on the floor. "You can't be serious," she said. "What-you squashed him to death like a pressed grape?