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neat rooms were easy to rifle through and search undetected because it was simple to put carefully placed things exactly where they’d been. But messes, on the other hand, were difficult to recreate.
we need to start being happy rather than serious.
Happiness made Scarlett even prettier.
if she was dead, it was possible she’d still loved Scarlett and Tella.
Unlike Legend, her friend didn’t lace his letters with magic tricks, but she often hoped he would.
smiling as if he had a secret.
he looked like a dark, wingless angel who’d been tossed from the heavens and landed on his feet.
‘Did you just insult my use of profanity?’ ‘I thought I asked for more dirty words.’
his devastating smile
Tella wanted nothing to do with love; she’d learned long ago it was not in her destiny.
‘It’s said these were forged by the Fates. People used to call them “luckless coins.”’
The Prince of Hearts. A symbol of unrequited love and irrevocable mistakes that never ceased to fill Tella with both dread and morbid bewitchment.
The myths claimed the Prince of Hearts’s kisses had been worth dying for, and Tella had often wondered how such a deadly kiss would feel.
no kiss could be worth dying for,
Only one person could make it beat again: his one true love. They said his kiss had been fatal to all but her – his only weakness – and as he’d sought her, he’d left a trail of corpses.
Nothing good has ever come from anything a Fate has touched.’
Why had her friend given her a relic from such an ancient myth?
Reckon her friend is Jacks
Tella wondered if Legend’s games ever ended, or if his world was an endless maze of fantasy and reality that left those caught inside it forever suspended somewhere in between the two.
Saying something was for someone else’s own good was almost always another way of justifying something wrong.
Julian would cross any and every moral line to keep Scarlett’s heart.
‘Is that how it is with you? You spend so much time lying you can’t tell the truth?’
While she was fighting for you, I was fighting for her.’
They blazed red in the day and silver at night, like a magician’s cloak, hinting at mysteries concealed beneath,
For many, Legend was the definition of magic.
Perhaps Legend was more magic than man and Tella had never met him in the flesh at all.
he favored red and roses and games.
Tella had stumbled into her sister’s love story and it was so romantic it was painful to watch.
This was why love was so dangerous. Love turned the world into a garden, so beguiling it was easy to forget that rose petals were as ephemeral as feelings, eventually they would wilt and die, leaving nothing but the thorns.
Dante had wings. And, holy mother of saints, they were beautiful – soulless jet-black with midnight-blue veins, the color of lost wishes and fallen stardust.
‘You could be an angel of death with those things.’
‘I’ve been called many things, but I don’t know if anyone has ever said I’m an angel.’ ‘Does that mean you’ve been called death?’
Cold, damp hands stroked her hair and others ripped out her heart, while bloodless lips drank the marrow from her bones.
nothing felt like death, except for Death.
Tella was amazing; of course Death would want to keep her.
Legend puts his game pieces in place far in advance.’
fate had blinked and the future of her world had reshaped.
he looked as if he’d spent centuries practicing disinterest.
me
devastating type of lovely that would slit your throat
The storybooks lied.
she pitied him if he couldn’t appreciate the beauty.
It ruled like an ageless monarch,
someone who ruled as long as Elantine didn’t do so with thoughtless abandon.
mortified-green
In the tense silence Tella thought she heard Death’s rasping laugh.
A gruesome welcome to a hideous kingdom.
white as chaste kisses and pure intentions,
wary shades of green.
It looked like a fantasy a garden had cried.
Night and his mistress the moon were both out to play
nevermore gray.
