“Don't be nice to me," she whispered, though she didn't move away. "I might cry if you are.”

“Oh My God," I blurted, grabbing onto Phin as we faced the open bedroom door. "It's the axe murderer.""I doubt he would knock," she said, but she was whispering, too, and didn't move away from me.”

“Make me forget." A whisper, a plea.Not giving her what she wanted wasn't even an option. He switched their positions so she was under him. "Aren't you afraid I'll take advantage?"She wiped away her tears. "Please do.""Ask nice.""Why don't I make you angry instead? That gets me kissed a lot.”

“Don't die on me," she whispered when the clock struck midnight and he still had not moved. "It's only a little shoulder wound. Goddess, George-don't die on me."His eyes flickered open and he smiled. "I didn't know you cared," he whispered. "And why insult me? I won't die for a wee nick like this; I've had worse in my day."Alanna wiped her wet cheeks. "Of course I care, you unprincipled pickpocket!" she whispered. "Of course I care.”

“Sara, we have to go," she whispers, even though my dad isn't there to hear her. She's not crying. She's calm. Matter-of-fact. As if she's asking me whether I want mayo or mustard on my sandwich. Except in secret.”

“Clary," he whispered. There was a thump, and she realized he had fallen to his kees by the side of her bed. She didn't move, but her body tightened. His voice was a whisper. "Clary, it's me. It's me.”