Not sure if I liked it. Though maybe I did. The beginning was a bit unpleasant but then it progressed into quite a neat introduction to a world. The Red Queen World.
The final accords - lovely and lively. A warrior queen. A king and his 'paramour', M-M style. A prince who 'intoxicates' himself. A girl who likes equations and mechanisms. A guy who loves history. Stuffy nobility, Silver and gifted. Reds, blesed with purpose to their lives.
And Coriane's final... what a crescendo!
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There is nothing so terrible as a story untold. (c)
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And her gray eyes, once bright stars, seemed dark, full of shadows. (c)
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I remember. There is no greater pain or punishment than memory. (c)
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They drank in the morning with greed, a quenched man still gulping at water while others died of thirst. (c)
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“Always a plan with you.”
“I certainly try.” (c)
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She was no great intellect, charmer, beauty, or warrior. Her usefulness lay in marriage, in alliance, and there were none to be found in her brother’s books or protection. (c)
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Queen Anabel, an oblivion of House Lerolan, did just that. She sat on the king’s left, her smile curling, eyes on her only son. Her military uniform was open at the neck, revealing a firestorm of jewels at her throat, red and orange and yellow as the explosive ability she possessed. (c)
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At least she has spine enough to eat her food. (c)
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A strange prince, an even stranger night, she wrote later. I don’t know if I ever want to see him again. But he seemed lonely too. Should we not be lonely together? (c)
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I leave behind unfinished puzzles, pieces never put back together. It feels wasteful. Not of the objects, but myself. So much time spent stripping wire or counting screws. For what? For knowledge I will never use? Knowledge that is cursed, inferior, stupid, to everyone else? What have I done with myself for fifteen years? A great construct of nothing. (c)
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She walked the city many times in hopes of finding a place she enjoyed, somewhere to anchor her in the newly tossing sea of her life. (c)
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Coriane was not so dazzled by silk shops or the stylish eateries jutting out over the water, but more interested in the bridge itself, its construction. She tried to fathom how many tons of metal were beneath her feet, her mind a flurry of equations. (c)
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“I was just wondering how many tons of metal we’re standing on, hoping it will keep us up.”
...
“I’ll do my best to keep that thought out of my head,” he mumbled. “Any other frightening notions to share?” (c)
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The cage of the capital was not a happy place for Coriane.
Nor Tiberias Calore. (c)
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She thought that every time, and she was always wrong. (c)
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How could servants create such beauty and still be considered inferior? They are capable of wonders different from our own.
They gained skill through handiwork and practice, rather than birth. Is that not equal to Silver strength, if not greater than it? But she did not dwell on such thoughts long. She never did. This is the way of the world. (c)
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Something tightened in Coriane’s chest, an unfamiliar sensation. Was it . . . happiness? She thought so. (c)
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We are the same, she thought. Searching for something to keep us anchored, both alone in a crowded room. (c)
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But there is a difference between a single candle in darkness, and a sunrise. (c)
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“It gets easier,” Queen Anabel whispered into her ear. Coriane wanted to believe her. (c)
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Usually this is where the fairy tale ends. Stories don’t go much further than this moment, and I fear there’s a good reason for it. (c)
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... simply could not believe how her mind seemed to spin out of control, happy one second and then distraught the next, bouncing between emotions like a kite in a gale. (c)
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It might be a crime to write such things, but I am a queen. I am the queen. I can say and write what I think. (c)
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You are still the little girl in a dusty room, forgotten, unwanted, out of place. You are queen of everything, mother to a beautiful son, wife to a king who loves you, and still you cannot find it in yourself to smile. (c)