“I know what I know. My secrets are deep. But long have I kept them. And long will they keep.”

Ione’s entire body went still, her leg tensing in the highwayman’s grip. Elm’s voice came from the back of his throat. “Get your fucking hand off of her.”

“Then do it,” he whispered, gliding a hand up her spine. “Use me. Toy with me. Feel something, Ione.”

“Are you angry with me?” 
Ione’s gaze lifted slowly to his face. “No. Why would you think that?” 
“We haven’t found your Card.” 
“That’s not your fault. You didn’t hide it.” 
“No, but...you just seem—” He swallowed. “I don’t do well with long silences. I tend to overthink.”

“I’d be your King, but always your servant. Never your keeper.”

“Men have no use for the Maiden. What is beauty to real power? My father never let me touch his Providence Cards. But the Maiden—the Maiden I was gifted freely, like a horse a lump of sugar. Something sweet to distract me from the bit they shoved in my mouth.”

It was surprisingly heavy, her hair. Dense. Long enough to wrap around his fist and tug.

“You cut her hair?” Whatever crossed his face stopped the Nightmare in his tracks. The monster peered through narrowed eyes, dropping his gaze to Ravyn’s knotted hands. 
“It will grow back,” he said slowly.

There once was a girl, clever and good, who tarried in shadow in the depths of the wood. There also was a King—a shepherd by his crook, who reigned over magic and wrote the old book. The two were together, so the two were the same: The girl, the King, and the monster they became.

“The Spirit of the Wood has no need for crude walls or rope restraints, you little twit. Our captors are decidedly human.”

Petyr pulled back. “What the hell happened—is Jes all right?” 
He tripped over himself, getting to the Nightmare. He reached for Jespyr. 
“I’m carrying her—” 
“Shove off, you ancient windbag.”

“For fuck’s sake, Tyrn,” a booming voice called. “Stop cowering. They’re only trees.” 
“Only trees? When was the last time that wiry shrub in your courtyard ripped itself free and wrapped branches around your neck, Spindle?”

Nothing is free, the trees called after them. Nothing is safe. Magic is love, but also it’s hate. It comes at a cost. You’re found and you’re lost. Magic is love, but also— 
“For mercy’s sake.” The Nightmare spat phlegm onto roots. “Shut the fuck up.”

This is the story of how I save my mother. And, as it has been from the beginning, this remains the story of how I die.

“The one inch of space between you and Casper the Very Friendly Ghost when he was doing your bandages didn’t look like business. No way there was enough room for Jesus in there.”

For a heartbeat, she let herself wonder what it would be like if Zacharias Coleson stayed dead.

“You’re not alive anymore and I’m still forced to look at your face!” 
“How are you literally dead and still this insufferable?”

“Sorry to break it to you, but you’re not the first person who’s ever kicked the bucket and turned into a ghost. And unfortunately for you, I don’t care enough about you to stick around and enjoy the show.”

Technically, Zach had won, but only because he slipped halfway down, slicing his arm open on a stray wire in the mesh, and fell the rest of the way to the ground. Cara wasn’t the one who’d spent the night getting stitched up in the ER, so really, who had been the real winner there?

“Don’t talk,” she whispered. “Let me handle this.” 
“Why can’t I talk?” Zach complained. “She can’t even hear me.” 
“Yes, but I can, so shut up.”

“And how are you sure you’re not imagining me right now?” 
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe I am.” 
“So touch me,” he said. “Make me real.”

Wasn’t that what they were all doing? Whenever you put on a seat belt or wore a helmet, you were delaying the inevitable, hitting snooze on a clock that continued to count down. Pulling the blanket over your head and telling Death, “Just five more minutes, please.”

“It was only you. It has always been only you.” 
“Go ahead, break my heart. I don’t mind. You’re a flame I would happily let burn me alive.”

And suddenly Zach was in front of her, brandishing a stalactite like a sword. “Like hell you’re touching her,” he said, voice low and dangerous. And tremoring. Just the tiniest bit. Zach? 
“Coleson—” 
“Stay behind me,” he ordered. “If it wants you, it’s gonna have to go through me first.”

“I’m glad you’re not dead, so I will ground you only for the next six weeks.” 
Cara’s mouth fell open. “The next six weeks?” 
“Did you think I would be so grateful you were alive I would let you off with no consequences?”

“I want you to let go and show me how fucking bright you burn."

I was surrounded by…nature…There were birds chirping. 
Leaves rustling. 
Wind gusting. 
Silence. 
I hated it.

"That all of this was my fault in the first place so I didn’t think I had the right to complain."

“I could take you.” Her voice turned into a whisper. “I think.” 
“You think? That’s not very threatening,” I muttered.

“I was not looking at you.” I whispered, cheeks flaming. 
“You were, and my ego fucking loved it.” He braced his hands on the island and leaned forward. “Other parts of me, too”

“Do you always have to be so unpleasant?” I retorted. 
The girls oooh-ed. 
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Do you plan on bringing anything but trouble into town?” 
The girls aaah-ed.

“Try to ignore it. Close your eyes. Look away. Maybe go away.”

“You were looking at me the way you are now. Just like that. I didn’t want it to end.” 
“Like what?”
“Like I’m something precious. Worth looking at.” 
His face fell. “Why would you think otherwise?” 
“Because no one ever looks at me that way.”

On a scale of one to orgasm, he’s a bean-flicking dream.

“You are a wizard with your mouth.” He grins. “Anytime you want a bread ride, I’m your man.”

“Sometimes people have to find the bottom before they start looking for a way back to the surface,” Logan says softly. 
“I don’t want the bottom to be a grave.”

“Take the leap, Winter. I promise the landing is soft on this one.”

“Are you worried you’ll make it a self-fulfilling prophecy?” I settle a hand on her waist. 
“Maybe?” She shrugs. “I’m so accustomed to being stressed out, I don’t know how not to be.”

“What the fuck is going on here?” 
“Is that Dracula?” Rose’s nose is smushed against my arm. I can’t see through the sea of bodies surrounding me. 
“It sounds like him.” 
“Group hug. Want in?” River asks.
“Physical contact is something I try to avoid, but thanks,” Laughlin says.