D'you think he would have thought ahead like that?" said Henry. "Assuredly," said Will. "The man's a strategist." He tapped his temple. "Like me.

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.

Well, she's not responding to my advances," he observed more brightly than he felt, "so she must be dead." "Or she's a woman of good taste and sense.

Do you think…" He raised his eyebrows. "Do I think what?" "That Valentine might have drowned?" "Never believe the bad guy is dead until you see a body," said Simon. "That just leads to unhappiness and surprise ambushes.

Hate is nothing when weighed against survival. (Valentine)

Bitten? You mean you're a-" "A werewolf," said the girl. "Like everyone else here. Except you, and the asshole. And the asshole's sister.

And next time you're planning to injure yourself to get me attention, just remember that a little sweet talk works wonders.