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The mirror presented a guarded bruiser, but one whose eyebrows gave away startling gentleness.
Was this reflection the truth? Or was it what he wanted to be true?
(from this angle, Ronan could not see what he saw, only the top of his own head),
This nightwash is from trying. This is the consequence of striving. He didn’t understand.
a gesture so firmly maternal that Ronan couldn’t tell if he felt ill from the nightwash or from grief.
We’re the villains, Farooq-Lane thought.
Had Ronan dreamt Matthew to be an idiot?
It smelled comfortingly old, like the Barns.
“Of course. You should know Gillian’s still going on about break. That’ll be the topic of debate.”
because suddenly he felt really weird.
She wondered if she would feel sad if Ronan died. Angry. Something. Because right now she didn’t feel anything at all.
If he reminded her of anything, he reminded her of … the resemblance slipped away.
His father’s will conveniently left him a town house adjacent to DC. Declan pressed on.
Before that, he hadn’t understood that his goals and what he wanted might not be the same thing. This was where he’d found art.
She laughed with delight, and he
Ronan felt Hennessy shiver. He leaned his skull against her skull, and without pause or snark, she leaned back.
That meant Declan had played that role even at home.
think Ronan dreamed me to be stupid,” Matthew said. “I think I’m stupider than most people. I don’t think very hard; I don’t think.”
It was Before Harvard. Before Bryde.
Funny how a handful of people loving a song you couldn’t stand could make you feel inhuman.
Silence from Hennessy was as worrisome as words.
Otherwise he didn’t sleep at all.
Bryde didn’t need them for anything. They needed him.
was slowly stretching, slowly coming back to life, and she suddenly thought she understood in a very real way why the Moderators were doing everything in their power to catch them.
only it was worse, because she knew this feeling meant she could manifest so, so much of the Lace.
And by Madame X, he meant Jordan Hennessy. He couldn’t get enough of her.
Golden Matthew, charming the city. Rebellious Ronan, finally grown into something useful. Cunning Declan, trafficking in art and stories. The Brothers Lynch. He liked not worrying about them all the time.
He thought about her all the time. He liked it all. He liked it very much.
“Do you or don’t you like it when I point out dogs?” Declan asked. Matthew groused. “I don’t only like when you point out dogs.
liked this life so well. He liked the people in it so much. It felt as if the other shoe must drop eventually.
He’d never had an equal—he’d never even known he wanted an equal, and now that she was there, he liked it.
a big shepherd dog standing with a bunch of ducklings huddled around its legs.
I don’t know. Pulses. Like power surges. Or heartbeats.”
An acceptable outlet for Ronan’s abilities and rebelliousness. Perhaps he had just wanted it to be. He’d wanted fewer ducklings for once.
The price tag is in the billions.”

