“Enjoyed that, did you?" Chaol growled."Immensely." Celaena patted Chaol's arm as she took it in her own. "Now you must pretend that you like me, or else everything will be ruined.”

“Can I be honest with you?" Chaol leaned closer, and Celaena leaned to meet him as he whispered: "You sound like a raving lunatic.”

“Her heart stopped when Chaol entered instead.”

“Celaena," Chaol said gently. And then she heard the scraping noise as his hand came into view, sliding across the flagstones. His fingertips stopped just at the edge of the white line. "Celaena," he breathed, his voice laced with pain—and hope. This was all she had left—his outstretched hand, and the promise of hope, of something better waiting on the other side of the line.”

“Fine, she wouldn't mind if Kaltain and Perrington met horrible deaths, but Dorian would be there. And Chaol.”

“And of course she enjoyed life immensely. It was her nature to enjoy. Anyhow there was no bitterness in her; none of that sense of moral virtue which is so repulsive in good women. She enjoyed practically everything. If you walked with her in Hyde Park now it was a bed of tulips, now a child in a perambulator, now some absurd little drama she made up on the spur of the moment.”