TapDanceQueen

“With each day, he felt the barriers melting. He let them melt. Because of her genuine laugh, because he caught her one afternoon sleeping with her face in the middle of a book, because he knew that she would win.

She was a criminal—a prodigy at killing, a Queen of the Underworld—and yet . . . yet she was just a girl, sent at seventeen to Endovier.

It made him sick every time he thought about it. He’d been training with the guards at seventeen, but he’d still lived here, still had a roof over his head and good food and friends.

Dorian had been in the middle of courting Rosamund when he was that age, not caring about anything.

But she—at seventeen—had gone to a death camp. And survived.

He wasn’t sure if he could survive Endovier, let alone during the winter months. He’d never been whipped, never seen anyone die. He’d never been cold and starving.

Celaena laughed at something Dorian said. She’d survived Endovier, and yet could still laugh.

While it terrified him to see her down there, a hand’s breadth from Dorian’s unprotected throat, what terrified him even more was that he trusted her. And he didn’t know what that meant about himself.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass

“I want a husband to warm my bed, and my bed alone.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass

“Two black boots came into view, then a pair of knees as someone crouched on the edge of the ring.

“Get up,” Chaol whispered. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the face. It was over.(...)

“Get up,” Chaol said again, louder. She could only stare at the white line of chalk that marked the ring.(...)

“Celaena,” Chaol said gently. And then she heard the scraping noise as his hand came into view, sliding across the flagstones. His fingertips stopped just at the edge of the white line. “Celaena,” he breathed, his voice laced with pain—and hope. This was all she had left—his outstretched hand, and the promise of hope, of something better waiting on the other side of that line.

Moving her arm made sparks dance before her eyes, but she extended it until her fingertips reached the line of chalk, and stayed there, not a quarter of an inch from Chaol, the thick white mark separating them.

She lifted her eyes to his face, and found his gaze lined with silver. “Get up,” was all he said.

And in that moment, somehow his face was the only thing that mattered. She stirred, and couldn’t stop her sob as her body erupted with pain that made her lie still again. But she kept her focus on his brown eyes, on his tightly pressed lips as they parted and whispered, “Get up.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass

“You might fight well, but your manners are a disgrace."

"I can act and talk like a lady, if it pleases me.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass