The Winter Long

I wouldn’t,” said the Luidaeg. “Love is love. It’s rarer in Faerie than it used to be—rarer than it should be, if you ask me. If you can find it, you should cling to it, and never let anything interfere. Besides, he has a nice ass.” Her lips quirked in a weirdly mischievous smile. “I mean, damn. Some people shouldn’t be allowed to wear leather pants. He’s one of them. He’s a clear and present danger when he puts those things on. Or takes them off.

Love is love. It’s rarer in Faerie than it used to be—rarer than it should be, if you ask me. If you can find it, you should cling to it, and never let anything interfere. Besides, he has a nice ass.

I don’t like parties. Someone always tries to assassinate someone I actually like, and there are never enough of those little stuffed mushroom caps.

I dislike the dead returning to life," said Etienne, his shoulders slumping again. "It's untidy and inappropriate.

You’ll always come back to warn him, no matter how much danger it could put you in, no matter what it costs you, because he cared for you when you thought you were nothing. You were never nothing. That didn’t matter. Perception is everything in this world

You know, just once, I’d like my life to be all about spending Sunday afternoon in my pajamas,

There is no fighting in the Library. Anyone who starts a fight or responds to a challenge will be thrown out. You may think you can take me. You're probably right. But none of you can take the Library.

Sometimes I think it must have been nice to be alive in the days where everyone knew that Faerie existed. Sure, bands of angry humans sometimes tried to kill us with iron and fire, but nobody questioned where we wanted to celebrate the seasons.

At least my headache was almost gone. I always deal better with emergencies when I’m not actively in pain.

Running through an unfamiliar forest filled with thorns is half an exercise in masochism, and half an obstacle course from the deepest reaches of Hell.

Okay, wow. Way to slide in a ‘safe driving’ PSA when I’m about to risk my life doing stupid shit.

This was the sort of situation that called for a certain amount of terror.

Lying to you would be a mistreatment of what that love means.

This is my fault. I know it's my fault. I should never have let you get so comfortable. You started thinking of me as harmless. I'm safe. I'm the monster at the end of the book, the one that you run to when the bigger monsters start threatening to eat you, but that's not right, Toby, that's not right, you forget yourself. You forget me. I am the scariest thing that has ever gone bump in the night. I am what you knew, at the bottom of your un-formed child's heart, was lurking in the back of your closet. And what I'm telling you, right here and right now, is that you need to leave, because I'm afraid of what will happen if you don't." I stared at her, fighting the urge to take a step backwards. Something told me that retreating would mean showing weakness, and showing weakness would be a mistake. "I'm not scared of you. If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it a long time ago, and it wouldn't have been over a yes or no question." "Toby." She said my name gently, and with a deep centuries-long sorrow. "Who the fuck said I needed you to be afraid of me?" She took another step forward dropping her voice to a whisper: "Run.

My headache, almost gone before, had blossomed anew like some perverse flower, spreading to fill my entire skull. I groaned as I forced myself to turn toward the bed, squinting against the candlelight.