Zahraa > Zahraa's Quotes

“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

“All stories are made of both truths and lies, [...] What matters is the way that we believe in them.”
― Stephanie Garber, Once Upon a Broken Heart

“I am grateful you're alive", he said. "I am grateful that you're beside me. I am grateful that you're eating."
She rested her head on his shoulder.
"You're better that waffles, Matthias Helvar."
A small smile curled the Fjerdan's lips.
"Let's not say things we don't mean, my love.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“Where do you think the money went?” he repeated.
“Guns?” asked Jesper.
“Ships?” queried Inej.
“Bombs?” suggested Wylan.
“Political bribes?” offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. “This is where you tell us how awful we are,” she whispered.
He shrugged. “They all seem like practical choices.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“Jesper: “If Pekka Rollins kills us all, I’m going to get Wylan’s ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost.”
Kaz: “I’ll just hire Matthias’ ghost to kick your ghost’s ass.”
Matthias: “My ghost won’t associate with your ghost.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

“I promise, Matthias. I'll take you home."
"Nina," he said, pressing her hand to his heart. "I am already home.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“I wonder what Matthias would have to say about that outfit.”
“He wouldn’t approve.”
“He doesn’t approve of anything about you. But when you laugh, he perks up like a tulip in fresh water.”
Nina snorted. “Matthias the tulip.”
“The big, brooding, yellow tulip.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

“What did she say?” asked Matthias.
Nina coughed and took his arm, leading him away. “She said you’re a very nice fellow, and a credit to the Fjerdan race. Ooh, look, blini! I haven’t had proper blini in forever.”
“That word she used: babink,” he said. “You’ve called me that before. What does it mean?”
Nina directed her attention to a stack of paper-thin buttered pancakes. “It means sweetie pie.”
“Nina—”
“Barbarian.”
“I was just asking, there’s no need to name-call.”
“No, babink means barbarian.” Matthias’ gaze snapped back to the old woman, his glower returning to full force. Nina grabbed his arm. It was like trying to hold on to a boulder. “She wasn’t insulting you! I swear!”
“Barbarian isn’t an insult?” he asked, voice rising.
“No. Well, yes. But not in this context. She wanted to know if you’d like to play Princess and Barbarian.”
“It’s a game?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what is it?”
Nina couldn’t believe she was actually going to attempt to explain this. As they continued up the street, she said, “In Ravka, there’s a popular series of stories about, um, a brave Fjerdan warrior—”
“Really?” Matthias asked. “He’s the hero?”
“In a manner of speaking. He kidnaps a Ravkan princess—”
“That would never happen.”
“In the story it does, and”—she cleared her throat—“they spend a long time getting to know each other. In his cave.”
“He lives in a cave?”
“It’s a very nice cave. Furs. Jeweled cups. Mead.”
“Ah,” he said approvingly. “A treasure hoard like Ansgar the Mighty. They become allies, then?”
Nina picked up a pair of embroidered gloves from another stand. “Do you like these? Maybe we could get Kaz to wear something with flowers. Liven up his look.”
“How does the story end? Do they fight battles?”
Nina tossed the gloves back on the pile in defeat. “They get to know each other intimately.”
Matthias’ jaw dropped. “In the cave?”
“You see, he’s very brooding, very manly,” Nina hurried on. “But he falls in love with the Ravkan princess and that allows her to civilize him—”
“To civilize him?”
“Yes, but that’s not until the third book.”
“There are three?”
“Matthias, do you need to sit down?”
“This culture is disgusting. The idea that a Ravkan could civilize a Fjerdan—”
“Calm down, Matthias.”
“Perhaps I’ll write a story about insatiable Ravkans who like to get drunk and take their clothes off and make unseemly advances toward hapless Fjerdans.”
“Now that sounds like a party.” Matthias shook his head, but she could see a smile tugging at his lips. She decided to push the advantage. “We could play,” she murmured, quietly enough so that no one around them could hear.
“We most certainly could not.”
“At one point he bathes her.”
Matthias’ steps faltered. “Why would he—”
“She’s tied up, so he has to.”
“Be silent.”
“Already giving orders. That’s very barbarian of you. Or we could mix it up. I’ll be the barbarian and you can be the princess. But you’ll have to do a lot more sighing and trembling and biting your lip.”
“How about I bite your lip?”
“Now you’re getting the hang of it, Helvar.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“Anything else?” asked Matthias.
“I like singing,” said Alys.
Wylan shook his head frantically, mouthing, No, no, no.
“Shall I sing?” Alys asked hopefully. “Bajan says that I’m good enough to be on the stage.”
“Maybe we save that for later—” suggested Jesper.
Alys’ lower lip began to wobble like a plate about to break.
“Sing,” Matthias blurted, “by all means, sing.”
And then the real nightmare began.
It wasn’t that Alys was so bad, she just never stopped. She sang between bites of food. She sang while she was walking through the graves. She sang from behind a bush when she needed to relieve herself. When she finally dozed off, she hummed in her sleep.
“Maybe this was Van Eck’s plan all along,” Kaz said glumly when they’d assembled outside the tomb again.
“To drive us mad?” said Nina. “It’s working.”
Jesper shut his eyes and groaned. “Diabolical.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“We … uh … we were having a disagreement.”
“I can see that. I have been very patient with all of this, Jesper, but I am at my limit. I want you down here before I count ten or I will tan your hide so you don’t sit for two weeks.”
Colm’s head vanished back down the stairs. The silence stretched.
Then Nina giggled. “You are in so much trouble.”
Jesper scowled. “Matthias, Nina let Cornelis Smeet grope her bottom.”
Nina stopped laughing. “I am going to turn your teeth inside out.”
“That is physically impossible.”
“I just raised the dead. Do you really want to argue with me?”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“Stay,” she panted. Tears leaked from her eyes. “Stay till the end.”
“And after,” he said. “And always.”
“I want to feel safe again. I want to go home to Ravka.”
“Then I’ll take you there. We’ll set fire to raisins or whatever you heathens do for fun.”
“Zealot,” she said weakly.
“Witch.”
“Barbarian.”
“Nina,” he whispered, “little red bird. Don’t go.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

“All da ladies love Leo!!”
― Rick Riordan, The Mark of Athena

“Matthias was dreaming again. Dreaming of her. The storm raged around him, drowning out Nina’s voice. And yet his heart was easy. Somehow he knew that she would be safe, she would find shelter from the cold. He was on the ice once more, and somewhere he could hear the wolves howling. But this time, he knew they were welcoming him home.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“Yes, my sweet villain, my darling god… Sweet Jude. You are my dearest punishment”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“Jude. You are in no mood for games, very well. I am in no mood for them, either. Let me write it outright; You are pardoned. I revoke your banishment. I rescind my words. Come home. Come home and shout at me. Come home and fight with me. Come home and break my heart, if you must. Just come home.”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing

“I fell in love with you, smartass, because you were one of us—because you weren’t afraid of me, and you decided to end your spectacular victory by throwing that piece of bone at Amarantha like a javelin. I felt Cassian’s spirit beside me in that moment, and could have sworn I heard him say, ‘If you don’t marry her, you stupid prick, I will.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“Lucien had been prepared to take me against my will.
Fae males were territorial, dominant, arrogant—but the ones in the Spring Court … something had festered in their training. Because I knew—deep in my bones—that Cassian might push and test my limits, but the moment I said no, he’d back off. And I knew that if … that if I had been wasting away and Rhys had done nothing to stop it, Cassian or Azriel would have pulled me out. They would have taken me somewhere—wherever I needed to be—and dealt with Rhys later.
But Rhys … Rhys would never have not seen what was happening to me; would never have been so misguided and arrogant and self-absorbed. He’d known what Ianthe was from the moment he met her. And he’d understood what it was like to be a prisoner, and helpless, and to struggle—every day—with the horrors of both.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“Nesta, it should not have come out as it did.'

'Did Cassian tell you that?' He'd gone to Feyre, rather than here?

'No, but I can guess as much. He didn't want to keep anything from you.'

'My issue isn't with Cassian.' Nesta levelled her stare at Amren. 'I trusted you to have my back.'

'I stopped having your back the moment you decided to use that loyalty as a shield against everyone else.'

Nesta snarled, but Feyre stepped between them, hands raised. 'This conversation ends now. Nesta, go back to the House. Amren, you...' She hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of ordering Amren around. Feyre finished carefully, 'You stay here.'

Nesta let out a low laugh. 'You are her High Lady. You don't need to cater to her. Not when she now has less power than any of you.'

Feyre's eyes blazed. 'Amren is my friend, and has been a member of this court for centuries. I offer her respect.'

'Is it respect that she offers you?' Nesta spat. 'It is respect that your mate offers you?'

Feyre went still.

Amren warned, 'Don't you say one more fucking word, Nesta Archeron.'

Feyre asked, 'What do you mean?'

And Nesta didn't care. Couldn't think around the roaring. 'Have any of them told you, their respected High lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?'

Amren barked, 'Shut your mouth!'

But her order was confirmation enough. Face paling, Feyre whispered again, 'What do you mean?'

'The wings,' Nesta seethed. 'The boy's Illyrian wings will get stuck in your Fae body during the labour, and it will kill you both.'

Silence rippled through the room, the world.

Feyre breathed, 'Madja just said that the labour would be risky. But the Bone Carver... The son he showed me didn't have wings.' Her voice broke. 'Did he only show me what I wanted to see.'

'I don't know,' Nesta said. 'But I do know that your mate ordered everyone not to inform you of the truth.' She turned to Amren. 'Did you all vote on that, too? Did you talk about her, judge her, and deem her unworthy of the truth? What was your vote, Amren? To let Feyre die in ignorance?' Before Amren could reply, Nesta turned back to her sister. 'Didn't you question why your precious, perfect Rhysand has been a moody bastard for weeks? Because he knows you will die. He knows, and yet he still didn't tell you.'

Feyre began shaking. 'If I die...' Her gaze drifted to one of her tattooed arms. She lifted her head, eyes bright with tears as she asked Amren, 'You... all of you knew this?'

Amren threw a withering glare in Nesta's direction, but said, 'We did not wish to alarm you. Fear can be as deadly as any physical threat.'

'Rhys knew?' Tears spilled down Feyre's cheeks, smearing the paint splattered there. 'About the threat to our lives?' She peered down at herself, at the tattooed hand cradling her abdomen.

And Nesta knew then that she had not once in her life been loved by her mother as much as Feyre already loved the boy growing within her.

It broke something in Nesta- broke that rage, that roaring- seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre's paint-smeared face.

She had gone too far. She... Oh, gods.

Amren said, 'I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.'

Nesta couldn't bear it- the pain and fear and love on Feyre's face as she caressed her stomach.

Amren growled at Nesta, 'I hope you're content now.'

Nesta didn't respond. Didn't know what to say or do with herself. She simply turned on her heel and ran from the apartment.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Cassian.'

Rhys's voice was a thing of nightmares, of the darkness between the stars.

Cassian froze at that voice he'd so rarely heard, and never once directed at himself. 'What happened?'

Rhys's face was wholly calm. But death- black, raging death- lay in his eyes. Not a star or shimmer of violet remained.

Rhys said in that voice that was like hell embodied, 'Nesta saw fit to inform Feyre of the risk to her and the babe.'

Cassian's heart began thundering, even as it splintered.

Rhys held his state, and it was all Cassian could do to weather it as his brother, his High Lord said, 'Get Nesta out of this city. Right now.' Rhys's power rumbled in the room like a rising storm. 'Before I fucking kill her.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“So he'd waited. Counted the minutes.

It had been worth it.

Seeing her claw her way onto the landing, panting, hair curling with the sweat sliding down her face- completely worth his generally shit day.

Nesta was still sprawled on the hall floor when she hissed, 'Whoever designed those stairs was a monster.'

'Would you believe that Rhys, Az, and I had to climb up and down them as punishment when we were boys?'

Her eyes shimmered with temper- good. Better than the vacant ice.

'Why?'

'Because we were young and stupid and testing boundaries with a High Lord who didn't understand practical jokes regarding public nudity.' He nodded toward the stairs. 'I got so dizzy on the hike down that I puked on Az. he then puked on Rhys, and Rhys puked all over himself. It was the height of summer, and by the time we made the trek back up, the heat was unbearable, we all reeked, and the scent of the vomit on the stairs had become horrific. We all puked again as we walked through it.'

He could have sworn the corners of her mouth were trying to twitch upward.

He didn't hold back his own grin at the memory. Even if they'd still had to hike back down and mop it all up.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Keeping tabs on me again, Isabella?” The velvety way he said my name was almost indecent, conjuring images of lazy afternoons and silken sheets. Of hands sliding up my thighs and kisses trailing down my neck, his mouth doing wicked things to my body while he thrust inside me. Over and over, until— Fuck.”
― Ana Huang, King of Pride

“Isabella.” I forced a swallow down my throat. “Yes?” “Shut up and let me kiss you.”
― Ana Huang, King of Pride

“Just like that, sweetheart. You take my cock so beautifully.”
― Ana Huang, King of Pride

“For a brief, unbidden moment, dark eyes and a crisp British accent flashed through my mind before I batted them away.”
― Ana Huang, King of Pride

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yes, you could have.” His mouth skimmed mine in a gentle kiss. “But I’m glad we were able to do it together.”

He’d been there through the late nights, the caffeine crashes, and the mid-edit breakdowns. Yes, I could’ve survived them on my own, but he made the journey so much better. He always did.”
― Ana Huang, King of Pride

“Because of the last time you overheard me talking about con—er, protective products,” I said. Nothing. I might as well be babbling about rush hour traffic patterns, for all the reaction he showed. “You ordered a strawberry gin and tonic because I was talking about strawberry-flavored…”
― Ana Huang, King of Pride

“trying to stay away from her was like asking the ocean to stop kissing the shore. Impossible.”
― Ana Huang, King of Pride

“Typical Volkov.”
― Ana Huang, King of Pride

“That there’s no going back after this.” His admission was a warm breath on my skin. “You should’ve never let me take you, Isabella. Because now that I have, I won’t be able to let you go.”
― Ana Huang, King of Pride

“I’d never fallen in love before her. Once I did, I did it the way I did everything else. Completely. Totally. Irrevocably.”
― Ana Huang, King of Pride