“Because stories tell a truth, if not precisely the truth.”
― How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
― How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
“Boys change. And so do stories.”
― How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
― How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
“Remember, all you really get to control is yourself.”
― How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
― How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
“Playing the villain was the only thing he’d ever really excelled at.”
― How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
― How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
“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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