That's your truck parked up by the factory isn't it?" Magnus pointed. "It's awfully butch for a bookseller.

How could you have guessed?” Miserable though Will was, he felt free, as if a heavy burden had been displaced from him. “I did all I could to hide and deny it. You—you never hid your feelings. Looking back, it was clear and plain, and yet I never saw it. I was astonished when Tessa told me that you were engaged. You’ve always been the source in my life of such good things, James. I never thought you would be the source of pain, and so, wrongly, I never thought of your feelings at all. And that is why I was so blind.

[...] He tasted like snowflakes and wine, like winter and Will and London.

Her throat ached: adoration, heartbreak, in equal measure. “Kiss me,” she said. “Please.

Keep up," said an irritable voice in her ear. It was Jace, who had dropped back to walk beside her. "I don't want to have to keep looking behind me to make sure nothing's happened to you." "So don't bother." "Last time I left you alone, a demon attacked you," he pointed out. "Well, I'd certainly hate to interrupt your pleasant night stroll with my sudden death." He blinked. "There is a fine line between sarcasm and outright hostility, and you seem to have crossed it.

You disappear so completely into your head sometimes," he said. "I wish I could follow you.

It is a far greater thing that I do now, than I've ever done before.