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“Lucien snorted at the sight of me. 'Those clothes are enough to convince me I never want to enter the human realm.' 'I'm not sure the human realm would know what to do with you,' I said. Lucien's smile was edged, his shoulders tight as he gave a sharp look behind me to where Tam was waiting in front of a gilded carriage. When he turned back, that metal eye narrowed. 'I thought you were smarter than this.' 'Good-bye to you, too,' I said. Friend indeed.”

“Lucien was having none of it. 'I knew. I knew you were lying the moment you unleashed that light in Hybern. My friend at the Dawn Court has the same power- her light is identical. And it does not do whatever horseshit you lied about it doing.' I shoved my pack off my bedroll. 'Then why not tell him? You were his faithful dog in every other sense.' His eye seemed to simmer. As if being in his own lands set that molten ore inside him rising to the surface, even with the damper on his power. 'Glad to see the mask is off, at least.' Indeed, I let him see it all- didn't alter or shape my face into anything but coldness. Lucien snorted. 'I didn't tell him for two reasons. One, it felt like kicking a male already down. I couldn't take that hope away from him.' I rolled my eyes. 'Two,' he snapped, 'I knew if I was correct and called you on it, you'd find a way to make sure I never saw her.' My nails dug into my palms hard enough to hurt, but I remained seated on the bedroll as I bared my teeth at him. 'And that's why you're here. Not because it's right and he's always been wrong, but just so you can get what you think you're owed.' 'She is my mate and in my enemy's hands-' 'I've made no secret from the start that Elain is safe and cared for.' 'And I'm supposed to believe you?' 'Yes,' I hissed. 'You are. Because if I believed for one moment that my sisters were in danger, no High Lord or king would have kept me from going to save them.”

“Lucien was the first to turn where I lurked in the doorway, falling silent mid-sentence. But then Tamlin's head snapped up, and he was racing across the room, so fast that I hardly had time to draw breath before he was crushing me against him. I murmured his name as my throat burned, and then- Then he was holding me at arm's length, scanning me from head to toe. 'Are you all right? Are you hurt?' 'I'm fine,' I said, noticing the exact moment when he realised the Night Court clothes I was wearing, the strip of bare skin exposed at my midriff. 'No one touched me.' But he kept scouring my face, my neck. And then he rotated me, examining my back, as if he could discern through the clothes. I tore out of his grip. 'I said no one touched me.' His breathing was hard, his eyes wide. 'You're all right,' he said. And then said it again. And again. My heart cracked, and I reached to cup his cheek. 'Tamlin,' I murmured. Lucien and the other sentries, wisely, made their exit. My friend caught my gaze as he left, giving me a relieved smile. 'He can harm you in other ways,' Tamlin croaked, closing his eyes against my touch. 'I know- but I'm all right, I truly am,' I said as gently as I could. And then noticed the study walls- the claw marks raked down them. All over them. And the table they'd been using... that was new. 'You trashed the study.' 'I trashed half the house,' he said, leaning forward to press his brow to mind. 'He took you away, he stole you-' 'And left me alone.”

“Lucien whipped his head to the right, listening, his eye whirring softly. The hair on my neck stood, and I had my bow drawn in a heartbeat, pointing in the direction Lucien stared. 'Put your bow down,' he whispered, his voice low and rough. 'Put your damned bow down, human, and look straight ahead.' I did as he said, the hair on my arms rising as something rustled in the brush. 'Don't react,' Lucien said, forcing his gaze ahead, too, the metal eye going still and silent. 'No matter what you feel or see, don't react. Don't look. Just stare ahead.' I started trembling, gripping the reins in my sweaty hands. I might have wondered if this was some kind of horrible joke, but Lucien's face had gone so very, very pale. Our horses' ears flattened against their heads, but they continued walking, as if they'd also understood Lucien's command. And then I felt it.”

“Lucifer looked over her shoulder. “What?” Dahlia cleared her throat. “You stupid bitch, I hate you and love you. Do not wear anything Patience gave you, it’s all ugly. I am going to write on every single blank page. Ha-ha! Love, the Faithful slut.” Lucifer scowled. “That person was mean to you.” Dahlia grinned. “No way, Faith was funny. I was the bitch, she was the slut, and Patience was the crack whore.”

“Lucifer protests he was never to blame for inducing anyone to sin, and that he’s never had an interest in owning souls: 'They die, and they come here – having transgressed against what they believed to be right – and expect us to fulfill their desire for pain and retribution. I don’t make them come here… I need no souls. And how can anyone own a soul? No, they belong to themselves. They just hate to have to face up to it.”

“Lucifer whispers that life's not fair and that if the gospel were true, we would never have problems or disappointments. ... The gospel isn't a guarantee against tribulation. That would be like a test with no questions. Rather, the gospel is a guide for maneuvering through the challenges of life with a sense of purpose and direction.”

“Lucitta knew Russian politics, and discussed how Trotsky was compelled by Stalin’s régime to deny many of his beliefs. It seemed that Mella, believing in one’s own personal independence, developed an interest in Trotsky’s philosophy. Basically, Trotsky believed that an international revolution should be initiated by the people, and that Communism wouldn’t succeed if it were only in one country surrounded by capitalistic states. Stalin countered that Marxism should be concentrated and strengthened under strong leadership in one country, which was the case in Russia. It didn’t help Trotsky’s cause within the Communist Party, when he contended that Stalinism in reality was “Tyranny disguised as Communism.”

“Lucivar winced. "She guzzled half the flask — and it wasn't one of his home brews, it was the concoction you created." Jaenelle’s eyes widened. “You let her drink a ‘gravedigger’?” “No no no,” Wilhelmina said, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t ever drink a gravedigger until he’s had a bath.” She smiled placidly when Jaenelle and Lucivar just stared at her. “Mother Night,” Lucivar muttered. “Do you know that song?” Wilhelmina asked Jaenelle.”