He was wearing a look that she found odd and compelling - that amusement that didn’t seem to pass beyond the surface of his features, as he found everything in the world both infinitely funny and infinitely tragic all at the same time.

His blue eyes were very dark...Will's were the colour of the sky just on the edge of the night.

Their oldest child, James, had spoken laughingly about Will's unrelenting fear of ducks and his continual battle to keep them out of the pond at the family home in Yorkshire.

Will turned around slowly, wiping blood from his face. "You're glaring at me," he said to Magnus. "You look like Church before he bites someone.

She shook her head. She was so pale under the diffuse lamp-light that she looked almost transparent, as if Simon could have looked right through her. The way, he supposed, he always had.

There was human goodness in the world, she thought-all caught up with desires and dreams, regrets and bitterness, resentments and power, but it was there.

Henry patted Charlotte’s shoulder anxiously. “Would you like a cool cloth? What can I do to help?” “You could ride up to Yorkshire and chop that old goat’s head off.” Charlotte sounded mutinous. “Won’t that make things rather awkward with the Clave?” asked Henry. “They’re not generally very receptive about, you know, beheadings and things.