Grim Lovelies

You thirst for magic so you can exact revenge. You want to destroy, to tear down. I see it in your eyes." "And what's wrong with that?" "Nothing, my dear, as long as you don't mind living in a broken world.

Only humans could write such pain and love, could make her swoon one minute and cry the next over something that had never really happened to people who’d never really existed.

Luc understood that doing what was right and what was necessary were two different things.

The dark thing inside her wasn't timid and plain, wasn't the type to skitter around the edges of a room, fearful of every footsetep

Breahe, my dearie. You look on the verge of shattering. You are each so strong in your own way. Beau has a steady strength, like a tree. Cricket is a bright strength, like lighting. But your strength, ah, yours is quiet. There's a reason magic is called whisper, not shouts.

You aren't made for sweeping floors, little beastie," he said quietly. "Don't you know that?

He asked for a knife," she said. "What do you think that means? It's not for eclairs, I can promise you that.

And it was true, there were rocks and there was smog, but there was also stars. The city was like life itself: good and bad, pretty and ugly, kindness and cruelty all in one. But most important, it simply was. And that felt like a kind of magic too.

She'd loved Mada Vittora once. A twisted, misunderstood love, but even the cruelest forms of love were never lost without heartache.

Well, a day and a half ago I was trying to tear you apart too, Cricket. And look at us now. One big happy family whose members haven't attempted to murder one another in at least a few hours

It rankled Anouk - they shouldn't ever have to be anything other than themselves.

All men like him ever see are aprons. I could be Mada Vittora risen from the dead, but if I had a mop in my hand he's still just ask for tea.

If she thought the blood on Anouk's clothes or the fact that Anouk was barefoot and missing two toes was odd, she didn't bat an eye.

She could feel energy thrumming in the prince’s movements, but it was tightly contained. Everything about him whispered control. Maybe that was the problem, she thought. Too much control made for a rigid heart. Hearts were made to beat steadily, yes, but they were also meant to tremble.

She took a deep breath, stepped across the threshold, pulling herself away from the only home she had ever known, and reached for Beau's waiting hand.