Huh,” said Kit, thinking of the Cold Peace. “Are you a prisoner?”
“No,” said the faerie. “I’m Mark’s lover.”
Oh, Kit thought. The person he went into Faerie to save. He tried to stifle a look of amusement at the way faeries talked. Intellectually, he knew the word “lover” was part of traditional speech, but he couldn’t help it: He was from Los Angeles, and as far as he was concerned, Kieran had just said, Hello, I have sex with Mark Blackthorn. What about you?

[Julian]"Remember, Mark is in charge.”
“Does he know that?” said Livvy.
Julian sought Mark in the crowd on the steps. He was standing with his hands behind his back, exchanging a mistrustful look with a carved stone gnome. “Your pretense does not fool me, gnome,” he muttered. “My eye will be upon you.

I am saying the choices we make in captivity are not always the choices we make in freedom. And thus we question them. We cannot help it.

What’s the Nephilim motto again?”
“ ‘We are dust and shadows,’ ” said Ty, not looking up from his book.
“Some of us are very handsome dust,” Jace added

To make a true choice, we must have true knowledge.

Kieran's hands came up to cup Mark's face. His touch was gentle. "I am not doing it for you," he said. "This will be what I do for Emma and the others. Then that debt will be paid. You and I, our debts are paid already." He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Mark's. Mark wanted to chase the kiss, the warmth of it, the familiarity. He felt Kieran's hand come down to splay itself over his chest-over the elf-bolt that hung there, below his collarbone. "We will be done with each other".

"No," Mark whispered.