“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.”

“Trust me, you're not my first choice to fight next to, Sunshine, but as as much as it would simplify things, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I left you to her tender mercies." (Seth to Keenan as he comes to his aid against Bananach)”

“Like many faeries she knew, he was sculpture-perfect, but instead of being wrought of shadows like those in her court, this faery had a tangled feel to him. Shadow and radiance. He didn‘t look much older than her, until she saw the arrogance in his posture. Then, he reminded her of Irial, of Bananach, of Keenan, of the faeries who walked through courts and crowds confident that they could slaughter everyone in the room. Like chaos in a glass cage.”

“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?”

“I told them he'd be able to get you to go out." Rianne folded her winnings and tucked the bills into her blazer pocket. "Look at him.""He's right here, Ri," Carla murmured, shooting Keenan an apologetic look."We've tried to teach her manners, but..." She shrugged. "It's like housebreaking a dog. If we'd had her when she was a puppy, maybe."Rianne smacked her on the arm, but she was grinning. "Woof, woof.”

“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.”

“He'd given her his vow: to take care of her, to keep her from hurt or pain, from wanting for anything. Her leaving didn't negate his promises; they weren't conditional.”