Marya pinned out her childhood like a butterfly. She considered it the way a mathematician considers an equation.

She was not filled up with the sight of him, the way she had seen her sisters fill up, like silk balloons, like wineskins. Instead, he seemed to land heavily within her, like a black stone falling.

Never put your faith in a Prince. When you require a miracle, trust in a Witch.

Remember this when you are queen,” he whispered hoarsely. “I moved the earth and the water for you.

Your past's a private matter, sweetheart. You just keep it locked up in xbox where it can't hurt anyone.

And as we watched, the Tsar of Death lifted up his eyelids like skirts and began to dance in the streets of Leningrad.

That's Venus, September thought. She was the goddess of love. It's nice that love comes on first thing in the evening, and goes out last in the morning. Love keeps the light on all night.