The seven Courts of Prythian, each ruled by a High Lord, all of them deadly in their own way. They are not merely powerful-they are Power.
She was a ghost. A wraith.
Dance with me Celaena.
This time, someone would come looking. Hopefully, they’d want to play.
She’d been only eight when Arobynn Hamel, her mentor and the King of the Assassins, found her half-submerged on the banks of a frozen river and brought her to his keep on the border between Adarlan and Terrasen.
Celaena pulled another book toward her and grinned. It was as if someone had read her mind. It was a large black volume entitled The Walking Dead in tarnished silver letters. Thankfully, the captain didn’t see the title before she opened it.
You do not have the right to wish she were not what she is.
What we think to be our greatest weakness can sometimes be our biggest strength. The most unlikely person can alter the course of history.
If it won’t respond to humans, then it will have to be killed,” Dorian said offhandedly, and a spark went through Celaena. “Kill it? Kill it? For what reason? What did it do to you?
As Cassian drew twin Illyrian blades, the sight of them like home, and said to Eris with lethal calm, “I suggest you drop my lady.
Abraxos lowered himself to the ground, stretching out his neck until his head rested on the hay not ten feet from Elide. Those giant black eyes stared up at her, almost doglike.
It is the strength of this that matters. No matter where you are, no matter how far, this will lead you home.
She had a flicker of memory from a time when, just for a moment, she’d been free; when the world had been wide open and she’d been about to enter it with Sam at her side. It was a freedom that she was still working for, because even though she’d tasted it only for a heartbeat, it had been the most exquisite heartbeat she’d ever experienced.
I couldn’t read, and it had almost killed me.
Your skills when it comes to complimenting women are unparalleled.
None came ten years ago. But maybe someone will bother this time. – Aedion.
So here we are, with the fate of our immortal world in the hands of an illiterate human.
I was told to keep my mouth shut,” Manon said. Her grandmother’s eyes flashed. “Unless you’d prefer I get on my knees and grovel.
I now wondered if the lullaby of death was not a lovely song, but the droning of flies. If flies and maggots were all Death’s handmaidens.
Only once, at the city that had forged and broken and sheltered his queen. Her.