“Bloody hell, Kitten. Never thought to be flogged by my own furniture. Do you know I saw bloomin' stars when that cracked over my nog?”

“Bloody hell," he gasped. "Harry. There's a *knife* in my leg. When did *that* happen?""In the duel," I told him. "Don't you remember?""I thought you'd stepped on me and sprained my ankle," Ramirez replied. Then he blinked again. "Bloody hell. There's a *knife* in my guts." He peered at them. "And they match.”

“Would you?” Mom smiles and touches my hair, pushing it back from my forehead. I let her, but I grit my teeth. Her bare fingers brush my skin. I am thankful when none of my amulets crack. “Do you know what the Turkish say about coffee? It should be black as hell, strong as death, and sweet as love. Isn’t that beautiful? My grandfather told me that when I was a little girl, and I never forgot it. Unfortunately, I still like my milk.”

“Hell, in my opinion, is never finding your true self and never living your own life or knowing who you are.”

“Left with nothing but my own bloody fingertips, I let out a war cry of my own, raked my nails over its face, and fought like a girl.”

“I saw your name in lights last night.It's the middle of the night,and I can't sleep,thinking all my trumpeting thoughts,and I get out of bed,open the curtains,and look into the night full of stars,and you know what I saw?Your name.Like the stars joined up and spelled the word for me.Like a sign.”