The Ragpicker King (The Chronicles of Castellane, #2)

by Cassandra Clare

All That Is Good Comes from the Gods. All That Is Evil Comes from Men.

The Prince looked at her closely. “Are you drunk?”

asked you because when I am not with you, Lin Caster, I feel as if some part of me has been torn away. I feel as if I am bleeding, insensible with the pain of a wound no one can see save myself. When you are with me…It is the only time I feel whole.”

She dug her hands into his hair, into the fine curling strands, black as raven’s wings, black as crow feathers. The ribbon of the mask tickled her fingers. She kissed his mouth, tasted the rain on his skin. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “Love me. I want you to.”