Django Wexler

‘‘This isn’t some stupid storybook where the underdog wins in the end. This is the real world. The strongest do what they want, and everyone else has to live with it. Or”—she glanced significantly at Isaac—“not.”

“Ashes, how did you do it?”

“I’d like to say it was all my own talent, but cats are naturally modest.”

“The strongest don’t always get what they want,” she said to Ending. “Not when the weak can work together.”

Magic, you’ll find, is nine parts dull to one part excitement, and the exciting bits usually hurt like the blazes.

“You’re not very loyal,” Isaac said as Alice took his hand.

“Loyalty,” Ashes sniffed, “is for dogs. Cats have better sense.”

The more he didn’t know, she reasoned, the easier he would be to fool.

“Patience, my friend.”

“I’m not your friend. And I’m not patient.”

Of course, where magic is involved, appearances don’t mean much.

“There’s this thing called dignity that some cats have been known to have. You might want to look into it.”

“A cat is always dignified, no matter what position he finds himself in,” Ashes said. “A half-cat even more so.”

Some things are more important than following the rules.

Aren’t they?

I must say, you are the least unintelligent human I have ever met.

The truth can be useful, sometimes. Assuming you can convince people.