A Court of Sugar and Spice (Wicked Darlings, #1)

by Rebecca F. Kenney

“I make it a habit to always pay attention when a woman speaks to me. It’s the ones who are out of their minds who have the most fascinating and insightful things to say.”

everyone knows it’s the rebels who make the best stories.”

I’m rather fond of makeup; it’s paint, after all, and I do love enhancing the natural beauty of a thing.

a city of hardworking, prosaic people, intent on amassing wealth for no other reason than to possess it.

I, as the creative type, had no right to also be well-organized and prudent. But artists come in all varieties. Some are impetuous, loud, and colorful, and some like to sit quietly, analyze a beautiful thing, and soak it right into their souls. Some like to keep all their paints and brushes perfectly organized.

It’s strange to me how many people can see the wonder of a thing and simply accept it, without inquiring why it was made or how it works.

“Men are going to look at you that way whether you like it or not. You can fret and stew about it, or you can turn it into power.”

“But they shouldn’t,” I say stoutly. “The world needs to change.” “Maybe it will. But until it does, I choose to manipulate what is to my advantage, rather than pining after what should be.

“The first sight of Faerie can make some human minds collapse. It’s usually temporary.”

“No, I wouldn’t call him a friend—it’s much worse than that. He’s family.”

A smile starts deep inside me, spreading like sunshine until it reaches my face. He catches his breath and then exhales, slowly. “Stars, you’re exquisite.”

“For us, the seasons are warm and cold, rejoicing and rest. Two sides of a coin—one for growth, the other for quiet reflection.

“No work of art is ever really done.” “But at some point, one must call it finished and leave it alone,”

“Doing a thing over and over can be pleasurable, but without real emotion, it drains the soul.

Much as I tease my cousin for his near celibacy, I do respect his choice. There is a wisdom in it—taking care to save your keenest moments of pleasure to share with a being who sparks more than a passing lust.

“You, my dearest darling, are someone I’ve only dreamed of meeting. I’m very afraid I won’t be able to let you go back to your world. I think I shall have to keep you here, with me.”

Maybe that’s why he acts so haughty. To disguise the fact that inside, he is wretchedly uncertain.

“Loving someone is baring your heart to pain.”

“You wanted me, tempted me,” he whispers. “You have me. Now it’s your decision. Choice is freedom.” Those three words flame through my heart, a sudden, violent truth.

By choosing him, I’m not stepping into a cage. I’m leaving one.

“You’ve loved people. You know how it feels to lose them. Human or Fae, Seelie or Unseelie—we are all guilty of something. And there are members of each race who have done wicked, wretched things. That doesn’t mean we condemn them all. It doesn’t mean we keep hating and punishing everyone of that race for wrongs committed long ago. The Fae wronged you deeply, and you’ve wronged them, too—but it must end.”