When Darroc returns, I know by the look in his eyes that I've chosen well. He thinks I picked black and red for him, the colors of his guard, the colors he has told me he selected for his future court. I chose black and red for the tattoos on Barrons' body. Tonight I wear my promise to him that I will make things right.

I began peering into the corners of the room, making sure all the shadows were cast by objects and obeying known laws of physics.

Yesterday was a memory. Today was a hope.

Time heals. No, it doesn't. At best, time is the great leveler, sweeping us all into coffins. We find ways to distract ourselves from the pain. Time is neither scalpel nor bandage. It is indifferent. Scar tissue is not a good thing. It is merely the wound's other face.

There are two kinds of people in the world Ms. Lane: those who survive no matter the cost and those who are walking victims.

Mom raised us to believe that every lie puts something out there in the world that's inevitably going to come back and bite you in the petunia.

Hours later, Adam propped himself up on an elbow and stared down at Gabrielle, pondering what made beauty. He thought he was beginning to understand. It wasn't symmetry of features; it wasn't perfection. It was uniqueness. That which one person had that no other possessed. That which was only their own.