“Laurel could not see her face but only the back of her neck, the most vulnerable part of anybody, and she thought: Is there any sleeping person you can be entirely sure you have not misjudged?”

“Kittredge had obviously misjudged her, but he had learned that was the way with most people. The story was never the story, and it surprised you, how much another person could carry.”

“I’m your friend now,” she told Harley as she massaged his neck and shoulders. “I have plenty of soul to spare. I’m rubbing it into you right now, can you tell?” She was kneading his lower back with her knuckles, and Harley nodded because the warmth was spreading. Pumpkin was making her way into his heart, lighting the corners of his empty soul with a red-gold flame.“You won’t be alone now,” Pumpkin crooned. “I’m part of you, like it or not.”And Harley could sleep. He could close his eyes without spinning away in darkness. He though that sleeping beside Pumpkin must be better than Frank Pike’s crazy sex adventures, but he would keep her a secret. He would keep her locked in that little chamber she’d reached with her fingers through the very walls of his back.”

“Naptime,ʺ said Christian, leading her toward the bed.ʺI still need a shower.ʺʺSleep first. Shower later.ʺ He pulled back the covers. ʺIʹll sleep with you.ʺʺSleep or sleep?ʺ she asked dryly, sliding gratefully into bed.ʺReal sleep. You need it.ʺ He crawled in beside her, spooning against her and resting his face on her shoulder. ʺOf course, afterward, if you want to conduct any official Council business...ʺʺI swear, if you say ‘Little Dragomirs,ʹ you can sleep in the hall.”

“She turned back to Jace. "Do you have to be so-," she began, but stopped when she saw his face. It looked stripped down, oddly vulnerable."Unpleasant?" he finishes for her. "Only at days when my adoptive mother tosses me out of the house with instructions never to darken her door again. Usually I'm remarkably good-natured. Try me on any day that doesn't end in y.”

“Maybe it was this: The name of a person marked for murder is just a name, but the face makes real the cost of violence, for if we have the nerve to look, we can see in any face our own vulnerability.”