Aelin sighed. 'This place has been shut down for months, and yet I swear I can still hear the music floating in the air.'Rowan angled his head, studying the dark with those immortal senses. 'Perhaps the music does live on, in some form.'The thought made her eyes sting.

Now when you say staring, are you including yourself in this assessment? I recall you taking in the view on several occasions.""For the last time, I was not staring at you." I was a terrible liar. "Now, if you're done, I'd like to finish asking my question.

I gotta say, I was really feeling the robe, but there's something about a girl in cartoon pajamas that does it for me.

He smirked and sat up "Simmer down, Jelly Bean.

If you cannot find the peace, then at least hone the anger...

Rowan considered for a moment, and then said, "I have known many kings in my life, Dorian Havilliard. And it was a rare man indeed who asked for help when he needed it, who would put aside pride.

I can't bury another friend.""You won't.""If anything ever happened to you, Rowan-""Don't" he breathed. "Don't even say it. We dealt with that enough the other night."He lifted a hand - hesitated, and then brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. His callused fingers scrapped against her cheekbone, then caressed the shell of her ear. It was foolish to even start down that road, when every other man she'd let in had left some wound, in one way or another, accidentally or not.There was nothing tender in his face. Only a predator's glittering gaze. "When we get back," he said, "remind me to prove you wrong about every thought that just went through your head."She lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"He gave her a sly smile that made thinking impossible. Exactly what he wanted - to distract her from the horrors of tomorrow. "I'll even let you decide how I tell you: with words"- his eyes flickered once to her mouth- "or with my teeth and tongue.

When she had arranged her household affairs, she came to the library and bade me follow her. Then, with the mirror still swinging against her knees, she led me through the garden and the wilderness down to a misty wood. It being autumn, the trees were tinted gloriously in dusky bars of colouring. The rowan, with his amber leaves and scarlet berries, stood before the brown black-spotted sycamore; the silver beech flaunted his golden coins against my poverty; firs, green and fawn-hued, slumbered in hazy gossamer. No bird carolled, although the sun was hot. Marina noted the absence of sound, and without prelude of any kind began to sing from the ballad of the Witch Mother: about the nine enchanted knots, and the trouble-comb in the lady's knotted hair, and the master-kid that ran beneath her couch. Every drop of my blood froze in dread, for whilst she sang her face took on the majesty of one who traffics with infernal powers. As the shade of the trees fell over her, and we passed intermittently out of the light, I saw that her eyes glittered like rings of sapphires.("The Basilisk")