Let these men play at being gods.
Perhaps she was waiting for me. Perhaps she had ordered the woods to open a path.
That gods-damned nightgown.
The mix of awe and anger and the realisation that the world was large, and beautiful, and sometimes so overwhelming in its wonder that it was impossible to drink it all down at once.
His skin shimmered with veins of pure gold – iridescent, like a blue butterfly.
A city lay out there, that I had barely observed or cared about. I wanted it – life, people. I wanted to see it, feel its rush through my blood. No boundaries, no limits to what I might encounter or do.
I could be soft and lovely at sunset, and awaken in the morning to slide into Illyrian fighting leathers.
Rhys began to winnow us again, and just as the dark wind swept in, I heard Cassian say to Nesta, his voice low and rough, “The next time, Emissary, I’ll come say hello.
No, that magnificent horse trampled them, fearless and wicked, just as Chaol had predicted. A horse whose name meant butterfly – stomping all over Valg foot soldiers.
Life – life was pain. Pain, and joy. Joy because of the pain. He saw it in Elide’s face. In every line and age mark. In every white hair. A life lived – together. The pain of parting because of how wonderful it had been.
Elentiya.” Nehemia paused to look back at her. The void seemed to be swirling, swallowing her up bit by bit. “You will not understand yet, but... I knew what my fate was to be, and I embraced it. I ran toward it. Because it was the only way for things to begin changing, for events to be set in motion. But no matter what I did, Elentiya, I want you to know that in the darkness of the past ten years, you were one of the bright lights for me. Do not let that light go out.
I love it when you look at me like that.” The purr in his voice heated my blood. “Like what?” “Like my power isn’t something to run from. Like you see me.
Arobynn looked exactly as he had the last time she’d seen him: a fine-boned aristo face, silky auburn hair that grazed his shoulders, and a deep-blue tunic of exquisite make, unbuttoned with an assumed casualness at the top to reveal the toned chest beneath. No sign at all of a necklace or chain. His long, muscled arm was draped across the back of the bench, and his tanned, scar-flecked fingers drummed a beat in time with the hall music.
Is your blood as sweet as your face, girl?
When she returns,” Aedion said quietly, “what she will do to the King of Adarlan will make the slaughtering ten years ago look merciful.” And in his heart, Aedion hoped he spoke true.
Come on,” she said to Lysandra and Aedion, heading for the door. “We’d better eat before we raise hell.
The assassin flipped back the lid of the basket. The nose instantly shot inward, and Celaena found the strange golden-haired pup quivering in a corner with a red bow around her neck.
Loyal unto death and beyond.
Why does anything cling to something?
I saved your asses. I’m entitled to say what I want.