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“What was it like?" I ask. "Being a serpent."
He hesitates. "It was like being trapped in the dark," he says. "I was alone, and my instinct was to lash out. I was perhaps not entirely an animal, but neither was I myself. I could not reason. There was only feelings--hatred and terror and the desire to destroy."
I start to speak, but he stops me with a gesture. "And you." He looks at me, his lips curving in something that's not quite a smile; it's more and less than that. "I knew little else, but I always knew you."
And when he kisses me, I feel as though I can finally breathe again.”
― The Queen of Nothing
He hesitates. "It was like being trapped in the dark," he says. "I was alone, and my instinct was to lash out. I was perhaps not entirely an animal, but neither was I myself. I could not reason. There was only feelings--hatred and terror and the desire to destroy."
I start to speak, but he stops me with a gesture. "And you." He looks at me, his lips curving in something that's not quite a smile; it's more and less than that. "I knew little else, but I always knew you."
And when he kisses me, I feel as though I can finally breathe again.”
― The Queen of Nothing
“For this scribe has read a great many of these accounts and taken away another lesson: that to be a woman is to have your story misremembered. Discarded. Twisted.”
― The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi
― The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi
“Come home and shout at me. Come home and
fight with me. Come home and break my
heart, if you must.
Just come home.
Cardan”
― The Queen of Nothing
fight with me. Come home and break my
heart, if you must.
Just come home.
Cardan”
― The Queen of Nothing
“I hate you," I whisper before he can speak.
He tilts my face to his.
"Say it again," he says as the imps comb my hair and place the ugly, stinking crown on my head. His voice is low. The words are for me alone.
I pull out of his grip, but not before I see his expression. He looks as he did when he was forced to answer my questions, when he admitted his desire for me. He looks as though he's confessing.”
― The Wicked King
He tilts my face to his.
"Say it again," he says as the imps comb my hair and place the ugly, stinking crown on my head. His voice is low. The words are for me alone.
I pull out of his grip, but not before I see his expression. He looks as he did when he was forced to answer my questions, when he admitted his desire for me. He looks as though he's confessing.”
― The Wicked King
“You didn't hear the story I told," he goes on. "A shame. It featured a handsome boy with a heart of stone and a natural aptitude for villainy. Everything you could like."
She laughs. "You really are terrible, you know that? I don't even understand why the things you say make me smile."
He lets himself lean against her, lets himself hear the warmth in her voice. "There is one thing I did like about playing the hero. The only good bit. And that was not having to be terrified for you."
"The next time you want to make a point," Jude says, "I beg you not to make it so dramatically."
His shoulder hurts, and she may be right about the iron poisoning. He certainly feels as though his head is swimming. But he smiles up at the trees, the looping electrical lines, the streaks of clouds.
"So long as you're begging," he says.”
― How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
She laughs. "You really are terrible, you know that? I don't even understand why the things you say make me smile."
He lets himself lean against her, lets himself hear the warmth in her voice. "There is one thing I did like about playing the hero. The only good bit. And that was not having to be terrified for you."
"The next time you want to make a point," Jude says, "I beg you not to make it so dramatically."
His shoulder hurts, and she may be right about the iron poisoning. He certainly feels as though his head is swimming. But he smiles up at the trees, the looping electrical lines, the streaks of clouds.
"So long as you're begging," he says.”
― How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
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