“She had a little book she carried around with her everywhere. It was her diary. Filled with poems about me—the color of my eyes, the wedding we would have. She had written ‘Tatiana Herondale’ all over it. Elise Penhallow had just finished playing the spinet. I got up beside her and commenced reading from Tatiana’s diary. She had rhymed ‘William’ with ‘million,’ it had to be stopped.”

“She had a little book she carried around with her everywhere. It was her diary. Filled with poems about me—the color of my eyes, the wedding we would have. She had written ‘Tatiana Herondale’ all over it. Elise Penhallow had just finished playing the spinet. I got up beside her and commenced reading from Tatiana’s diary. She had rhymed ‘William’ with ‘million,’ it had to be stopped.”