I'm stone, nothing touches me-nothing.

— Amy A. Bartol

I prefer my justice to be blind.

— Amy A. Bartol

I should love her like there is an ache that won't go away unless I'm with her.

— Amy A. Bartol

Okay, you must have forgotten that I know when someone's lying-it's one of my special, freaky priestess gifts, remember-the one you love to use until it becomes inconvenient for you? You can try to throw me off, but even half-truths ring false with me.

— Amy A. Bartol

War sounds romantic, heroic even, until everyone you know starts dying.

— Amy A. Bartol

We’ll sleep when we’re tired. When we wake, I’ll find a way to make you laugh, and I’ll live in the sound of it.” My throat gets tight because I long for that day to be now. “We’ll find somewhere you’ve never been, and we’ll make it ours—fill it with memories of us. That’s what I want.” I finish with the alcohol swab. Leaning close, I gently blow on his healing wound to ease the sting. Reed takes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it tenderly. “And when we get that sleep, there will never be a side or a side of the bed—we’ll always meet in the middle. And when I hold you there, in our bed, you’ll let me rest my lips here.” Reed lets go of my hand to move his thumb to caress the sensitive skin of my neck just beneath my ear. I get swept up in him: my body his with one touch. I turn and rub my cheek gently against his palm. “And we won’t rush...ever,” I murmur, forgetting to be scared. I want that future with him. “The world can spin around us, but we’ll take our time, savor every moment.” My head rests on his shoulder. “Just you and me.

— Amy A. Bartol

You cannot thrive under the wrong stars, Cricket… the stars here are in opposition to you… can’t you feel it?… Let us take you home.

— Amy A. Bartol