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You can break a thing, but you cannot always guide it afterward into the shape you want.
“You’re not the way everyone says you are,” Kaye said, looking at him so fiercely that he couldn’t meet her gaze. “I know you’re not.” “You know nothing of me,” he said. He wanted to punish her for the trust he saw on her face, to raze it from her now so that he would be spared the sight of her when that trust was betrayed.
The twilight holds as many truths as the dawn, perhaps more, since they are less easily perceived.
Nevertheless, he found himself no longer wanting to punish her for her faith in him. Instead, he found himself wanting to be
worthy of it. He wanted to be the knight he had once been. Just for a moment.
“I would give anything for her release,” Roiben said in a voice so low Kaye was sure that only those very close could hear it.
“If you wish me to endure your touch, you must order me to do so.”
She wanted him, wanted him to want her more than she had any right or reason to expect from him, and that knowledge was as bitter as the day-old coffee.
It made her want to grin at him, although she was afraid he might grin back and ruin his furious demeanor.
“You think like a mortal,” Spike said. “Well, gosh, I did spend every week of my life except the last thinking I was one.”
“Would you like a cigarette to go with that?” Roiben asked dryly. “I think I liked you better before you acquired a sense of humor.”
“Corny can drive back,” Kaye said in a small voice. “I have a new enthusiasm for our quest.” Roiben spoke with great sincerity.
“I’m here because you are kind and lovely and terribly, terribly brave,” he said, voice pitched low. “And because I want to be.”
“I am your servant,” the King of the Unseelie Court said, his lips a moment from her own. “Consider it done.”
