“...and motioned me toward a spot next to a middle-aged Moroi in a very formal and very designer black suit. The suit screamed, I'm sorry the queen is dead, and I'm going to look fashionable while showing my grief”

“The only thing keeping me alive is that he keeps a hefty supple of liquor on hand. But at this rate I'm going, that'll be gone by the weekend. Jesus Christ, I'm climbing walls here." His eyes fell on the cross at my neck. "Oh. Sorry. No offense to Jesus.”

“I'm sorry." "Be sorry you lied," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Don't be sorry you loved him. That's part of you, part you have to let go, yeah, but still something that's made you who you are.”

“Besides, when not hard at work with this research, I'm actually conducting a side experiment on how cigarettes and gin increase charisma. As you might guess, the results are looking very promising.”

“I did, however, manage to do it without hurting those dogs. Very considerate of me. Don't let it be said I'm not an animal lover-that wretched kitsune aside.”

“I'm not going to give you a hard time. I'm just going to love you whether you want me to or not.”

“Later, I would ask Shaya to help me compose a formal response to Katrice's letter, something a long the lines of "I am the Thorn Queen. F*** Off.”