Chili87

“She let her bad mood seethe into the silence of the carriage. Finally, she couldn’t bear the vicious cycle of her thoughts, the way they kept returning to Irex and her stupid decision to humiliate him at Bite and Sting. “Well?” she asked Arin.
He sat across from her in the carriage, but didn’t lift his eyes to meet hers. He studied his hands. “Well, what?”
“What do you think?”
“About?”
“About the party. About anything. About the bargain we made that you could at least pretend to uphold.”
“You want to gossip about the party.” He seemed tired.
“I want you to speak to me.”
He looked at her then. She found that she had clenched her silk skirts in a fist. She let go. “For example, I know you overheard about Senator Andrax. Do you think he merits torture? Death?”
“He deserves what he gets,” he said, and went quiet again.
Kestrel gave up. She sank into her anger.
“That isn’t what’s bothering you.” Arin sounded reluctant, almost incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming from his mouth.
Kestrel waited.
He said, “That man is an ass.”
It was clear whom he meant. It was clear that no slave should ever say that of any Valorian. But it was magic to hear the words out loud. Kestrel breathed a laugh. “And I am a fool.” She pressed chilly hands to her forehead. “I knew what he’s like. I should have never played Bite and Sting with him. Or I should have let him win.”
The corner of Arin’s mouth twitched. “I enjoyed watching him lose.”
There was silence, and Kestrel, though she felt comforted, knew that Arin’s understanding of the afternoon had been fairly complete. He had waited beyond the laran trees, listening to her and Irex. Would he have continued to do nothing, had something else happened?
“Do you know how to play Bite and Sting?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
“Either you do or you don’t.”
“Whether I know or don’t doesn’t matter.”
She made an impatient noise. “Because?”
His teeth flashed in the late, shifting light. “Because you would not want to play against me.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Curse

“The monster is me and I am the monster.”
― Leigh Bardugo, King of Scars

“She saw him and didn’t understand how she had ever missed his beauty. How it didn’t always strike her as it did now, like a blow.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Curse

“Isn’t that what stories do, make real things fake, and fake things real?”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Curse