“Here, I’ll read his explanation. ‘Your success in capturing the heart of Lord Westcliff was purely the result of your own magic, and the essential addition to the fragrance was, in fact, yourself.’ ” Laying the letter in her lap, Lillian grinned at her sister’s annoyed expression. “Poor Daisy. I’m sorry that it wasn’t real magic.”

“Laying a hand on his heart, she timed its beats to her own. And knew the truest magic was there.”

“His heart actually stumbled when he remembered her pain. He immediately knelt by her head.“Eve, how can I fix this? Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything.” He moved her hair out of her face.Eve let his words lay in the room with them for a while before she uttered her blasphemous ones. “When I’m with you, it doesn’t hurt as bad.”He picked her up again, surprised—now that he could think—at how much she weighed. This girl’s pure muscle.He sat on the couch with her on his lap. Starting over. “I’m so sorry, Eve.”Eve touched the new marks on his chest, lines that linked all his past violence with a path of red, new pain. “I know you are, Beck. I know you are.”

“You are essentially who you create yourself to be and all that occurs in your life is the result of your own making.”

“The essential respect is the one in your own heart for yourself.”

“The theater troubled her. It had a magic of its own, one that didn’t belong to her, one that wasn’t in her control. It changed the world, and said things were otherwise than they were. And it was worse than that. It was magic that didn’t belong to magical people. It was commanded by ordinary people, who didn’t know the rules. They altered the world because it sounded better.”