“Summer and Winter were not supposed to fall in love.”

“Summer and Winter were supposed to be enemies. We were not supposed to cooperate, we were not supposed to go on quests together and, most important, we were not supposed to fall in love.”

“Oy, prince,” Puck circled back, frowning. “What are you doing? If you didn't know already, the old chicken plucker is on her way, and she's gunning for Winter and Summer stew.”

“I saw Oberon charge into the fray on a huge black warhorse, glamour swirling around him, and sweep a hand toward the thickest of the fighting. Vines and roots erupted from the ground, coiling around the Iron fey, strangling them or pulling them beneath the earth. Atop a rise, Mab raised her arms, and a savage whirlwind swept across the field, freezing fey solid or impaling them with ice shards. The armies of Summer and Winter howled with renewed vigor and threw themselves at the enemy.”

“I'm not particularly fond of the Summer bitch, pardon my French,”

“I am yours to command, my queen,” he whispered, making my heart clench in complete, helpless love. “I will obey, even if you order me to cut out my own heart. Even if you order me to the hell that is the Winter Court Elysium.”

“If Puck was dead, my world would become as cold and lifeless as the darkest night in the Winter Court”