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“There were patterns in the way people moved, the way they clustered around power. They thought they were drifting, milling aimlessly, but really they were being drawn towards people of status.”
― Six of Crows
― Six of Crows
“Why do you wear gloves, Mister Brekker?"
Kaz raised a brow. "I'm sure you've heard the stories."
"Each more grotesque than the last."
Kaz had heard them, too. Brekker's hands were stained with blood. Brekker's hands were covered in scars. Brekker had claws and not fingers because he was part demon. Brekker's touch burned like brimstone - a single brush of his bare skin caused your flesh to wither and die.
"Pick one," Kaz said as he vanished into the night, thoughts already turning to thirty million kruge and the crew he'd need to help him get it. "They're all true enough.”
― Six of Crows
Kaz raised a brow. "I'm sure you've heard the stories."
"Each more grotesque than the last."
Kaz had heard them, too. Brekker's hands were stained with blood. Brekker's hands were covered in scars. Brekker had claws and not fingers because he was part demon. Brekker's touch burned like brimstone - a single brush of his bare skin caused your flesh to wither and die.
"Pick one," Kaz said as he vanished into the night, thoughts already turning to thirty million kruge and the crew he'd need to help him get it. "They're all true enough.”
― Six of Crows
“Sure, I'm skinny,' he said as they hurried back through the stables, 'but I stay drier in the rain.'
'How?'
'Less falls on me.”
― Six of Crows
'How?'
'Less falls on me.”
― Six of Crows
“She tilted her head back, breathing deeply. It was a stone gray day, the sea a bleak slate broken up by whitecaps, the sky pleated with thick ripples of cloud. A hard wind filled the sails, carrying the little boat over the waves.
'It feels good to be this kind of cold,' she murmured.
'This kind?'
'Wind in your hair, sea spray on your skin. The cold of the living.”
― Six of Crows
'It feels good to be this kind of cold,' she murmured.
'This kind?'
'Wind in your hair, sea spray on your skin. The cold of the living.”
― Six of Crows
Nia’s 2025 Year in Books
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