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The Guardians wouldn't abandon the last Dragomir. And I wouldn't have abandoned Lissa even if there were a million Dragomirs.
Richelle Mead
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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
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Michigan
United States
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Lissa
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Really, Sage? A date?” I sighed. “Yes, Adrian. A date.” “A real date. Not, like, doing homework together,” he added. “I mean like where you go out to a movie or something. And a movie that’s not part of a school assignment. Or about something boring.” “A real date.
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Was it weird having a witch grandma? Scary? Was she always, like, threatening to cast spells if you were bad? Most of the time she just threatened to send me to my room. That doesn't sound so scary to me. That's because you haven't met her.
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ʺWe need someone to get the roomʹs attention,ʺ I said. ʺSomeone not afraid to make a spectacle—I mean, besides me, of course.ʺ
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Turning away, I stared at the long road winding off ahead of me. I sighed. This trip might take awhile. Then start walking, Rose, I muttered to myself. I set off, off to kill the man I loved.
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You two are a match made in heaven. Or somewhere.
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Call me crazy for asking this, but, um, are Lissa and I going with you? No No? No.
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If he wants to tell you, he'll tell you. End of story, Rose. Besides, you certainly keep your share of secrets too. You two have a lot in common. Are you kidding? He's arrogant, sarcastic, likes to intimidate people, and—oh. Okay. Maybe she had a point.
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Dimitri: Why did you come here? Rose: Because you hit me on the head and dragged me here.
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Indeed. That pony collection isn’t nearly complete,” Carter mused. When I dared a look back at him, I saw that the angel was smiling at me. “You see? You aren’t lost. No matter what happens to you, you have a plan. There’s still hope.
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Oh God. She probably thinks we were off doing—you know—romantic type, um, things—
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I didn’t care about anything except her and the way touching her drove me wild, even as her calm and steady presence soothed the storms that raged within me.
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