You forgot the ‘my precious,’” Anna said dryly. “If you want to act like a freaking nutcase, you have to do it right.

It is the way of mortals. They fling themselves at life and emerge broken.

So in the sweltering heat of a July night, I sang a Christmas carol to a room full of fae, who had been driven out of their homelands by Christians and their cold-iron swords.

Yes,' he said sincerely. 'Such a one deserves peanut butter on the seat of his pants.

He loved her beyond all reason and didn't expect her to love him back. He was just waiting for her to wise up.

My foster mother always laughed and said it was his reputation for knowing everything that allowed for him to appear infallible: all he had to do was walk through the room and see who looked guiltiest when they saw him. Maybe she was right, but I tried looking innocent the next time, and it didn't work.

Dont let the bastards grind you down?" Bran looked at me incredulously.