“He was an answer to a question she'd forgotten to ask.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“He held her gaze as he lowered his head toward her. He didn't kiss her though--just leaned kissably close and asked, "Will you let me take you in my arms... for a dance, Leslie?”

“The girl's kind, good. . . . Totally too good for you.""So were you." He kissed her cheek, singed it with his lips. "You still are.""Bastard." She shoved him, ignoring the burning in her palm from touching him.He put a hand on his shoulder, metling the ice that formed where she'd pushed too hard. It crackled under his touch. "Only because Beira murdered my father.”

“You're an idiot," she whispered tearfully.Finally, he opened his eyes and stared up at her; by then, she had moved on to stroking his hair and crying. She sat beside him on the edge of the bed, trying very hard not to bump him or let her cold tears fall on his bare chest and arms.For a moment he blinked at her. Then he asked, "Are you dead too?”