Father sighed. “Please spare me these arguments of yours.” “Whose arguments should I use?

You don’t mind when he stares at you.” Cecil jerked his head toward Eldric. "He doesn’t stare,” I said. “He looks.

Perhaps you should put your head down.” I knew this was the thing to do, although I’ve never fainted and I don’t intend to.

I’m not really the sacrificing type.

Meaning. If you're going to die, you want to find meaning in life. You want to connect the dots.

Witches don’t look like anything. Witches are. Witches do.

But witchy magic doesn’t listen to please and pretty please, and anyway, I didn’t really care. I only pretended to care because not caring makes me a monster.