Can't you . . . I don't know. Find a hobby or something?" "Being charming is my hobby," said Adrian obstinately. "I'm the life of the party— even without drinking. I wasn't meant to be alone.

I was so awash in sensory overload that I was caught completely unaware when he did push me away

Promises. I was drowning in promises.

Later, I would ask Shaya to help me compose a formal response to Katrice's letter, something a long the lines of "I am the Thorn Queen. F*** Off.

You know, I might miss some of your witticisms when you’re gone, but one thing I won’t miss? Your overwhelming sense of melodrama and despair. It’s too much even for me.

I eyed Dimitri, recalling a shadow in my periphery back in the ballroom. "You followed when I jumped in front of Lissa, didn't you? Who were you going for? Me or her?" He studied me for several long seconds. He could have lied. He could have given the easy answer by saying he'd intended to push both of us out of the way-if that was even possible, which I didn't recall. But Dimitri didn't lie. "I don't know, Roza. I don't know.

It doesn't matter. Take Eddie's blood. Take Belikov's blood. Take your own for all I care. But If she doesn't want to give hers, then that's all there is to it. She said no. This conversation is done.