trying to read his face. It was like a book written in a foreign language she'd studied all too briefly.
Cassandra ClareAtque in pepetuum, frater, ave atque vale,โ he whispered. The words of the poem had never seemed so fitting: Forever and ever, my brother, hail and farewell.
Cassandra ClareYou know that feeling,โ she said, โwhen you are reading a book, and you know that it is going to be a tragedy; you can feel the cold and darkness coming, see the net drawing tight around the characters who live and breathe on the pages. But you are tied to the story as if being dragged behind a carriage and you cannot let go or turn the course aside.โ His blue eyes were dark with understanding โ of course Will would understand.
Cassandra Clare