“He had hopes, but hope wasn't a solution.”

“He pulled something out of his pocket and tried to stick it in her arm. A needle. He'd offered her hope, but then he was trying to hurt her. Poison. She pushed him away. "That wasn't nice.”

“His blue-black hair fell over his face when he moved, like tiny arrows pointing to pronounced cheeckbones. "Starting to think you were going to bail on me." "Didn't know you were expecting me," she said in what she hoped was a casual voice. He gets sexier every day. "Not Expecting, but hoping. Always hoping”

“[Keenan] 'What am I going to do?' He sank to the floor.[Donia] 'Hope that some of us are kinder to you than you've been to us,' she whispered. Then, before she could soften again, she walked away and left the Summer King kneeling in her foyer.”

“You're killing me here, Ash. Good, she said. She'd bend a few rules, but they both knew she wasn't going to push him beyond where he chose to go. Love wasn't to be based on trickery. But reminding him what he's refusing isn't trickery.”

“It wasn't the tattoo that had changed her, had given her repossession of her body. It was her actions, her choices. It was finding the path when it looked like there weren't any paths to be found.”

“Can I join you at lunch?" She paused. "You have every other day." He laughed, a sound as musical as the chiming song of the lupine fey when they ran. "Yes. But you resented it every other day." "What makes you think I won't resent it today?" "Hope. It's what I live on...”