“He might be out of her skin, but she'd left him as something other than what he'd been before- not moral, but not strong enough to deserve the title of Dark King.”

“[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.”

“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.”

“If he took her into his arms, he would keep her. He wouldn't let her suffer the way the other mortals had when he'd left them. He would keep her, with his court's permission or without it. Irial wouldn't take her, and Keenan wouldn't stand between them.”

“And he was gone before she could think clearly enough to explain that her yes was a Yes, I'll marry you.”

“Then he kissed her, not just a brush of lips as she'd done, but a kiss a kiss that scalded her tongue. The tree burst into full blooms. The garden fluttered around her. A riot of flowers shot out of the earth. She was mud-covered as he pulled back.”

“She turned so they were face-to-face and gave him back the words he'd offered her their first night together: "I survived. Isn't that what matters?”