Isabelle tugged her tank top back down and glared at her brother. “You don’t knock now?” “It’s my bedroom!” Alec spluttered.

Oh, good. You're starting to talk about yourself in the third person. That's not a sign of impending megalomania or anything.

what did wards matter when you could create your own reality just by drawing it?

The conviction that everyone in this house must be dead had gained such a hold on Magnus that it was a shock when the woman who had summoned him here opened the door.

So you’re suggesting we take the train up to York, meet a ninety-year-old man, leap on him, and yank out his hair? I’m sure the Clave will be ecstatic.” “They’ll just say you’re mad,” said Jessamine. “They already think it, so what’s the difference, really?

Atque in pepetuum, frater, ave atque vale,” he whispered. The words of the poem had never seemed so fitting: Forever and ever, my brother, hail and farewell.

It wasn't enough, not nearly enough, but it was all there was.