I didn’t move for a bit, just lay there thinking about things. Like how the world was full of mystery and magic and horror and love.

I loved him. God help me, I loved him more than a girl has ever loved a boy. More than anyone has ever loved anyone.

Your life is not your own, Vi,′ she said. ‘Don’t you know that? It belongs to the people who love you. So you need to take better care of it.

That girl made me feel like I was dreaming. Broad daylight dreaming.

The Citizen’s attic was, objectively, breathtaking. The place was littered with trunks and old clothes and wardrobes and pieces of furniture and strange metal toys no one had played with in sixty years and half-painted canvases and on and on. There were several round windows to let in the sunlight, and I loved how it raked its way across the floor as I watched, dust dancing like sugerplum fairies in the bold yellow glow. If attics could make wishes, this one would have nothing to wish for.

There’s truths and then there’s truths, Violet. And some damn truths shouldn’t be spoken out loud, or the Devil will hear, and then he’ll come for you. Amen.

All the strangest things are true.

Did you think that if you created a fairy tale and made all of us play along, made me defeat a monster and become a hero... you’d have a happy ending, like a princess in a hayloft story?

Lying makes life more interesting. Not to mention easier, for the most part.

Juniper began a death prayer. It was a familiar invocation, asking the sea to bring the peace of deepest sleep, and the wind to whisper the girl’s name in its travels.