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“I stand in front of the polished wood door, lit by two lamps of trapped sprites who fly in desperate circles. They illuminate a carving of an enormous and sinister face. The knocker, a circle piercing its nose. Cardan reaches for it, and because I have grown up in Faerie, I am not entirely surprised in to a scream when the door's eyes open. 'My prince,' it says. 'My door,' he says in return, with a smile that conveys both affection and familiarity. It's bizarre to see his obnoxious charm used for something other than evil.” — Holly Black
I stand in front of the polished wood door, lit by two lamps of trapped sprites who fly in desperate circles. They illuminate a carving of an enormous and sinister face. The knocker, a circle piercing its nose.
Cardan reaches for it, and because I have grown up in Faerie, I am not entirely surprised in to a scream when the door's eyes open.
'My prince,' it says.
'My door,' he says in return, with a smile that conveys both affection and familiarity. It's bizarre to see his obnoxious charm used for something other than evil.