Catherine
https://www.goodreads.com/chchaley
“...My life has always been a powder keg waiting for a match."
"Well, hello, match," Hazel said, pointing to herself with both thumbs, but she smiled as she did it, hoping to take the sting out of the words.
"Hello, match." Somehow his snagged-silk voice gave them an entirely different meaning.”
― The Darkest Part of the Forest
"Well, hello, match," Hazel said, pointing to herself with both thumbs, but she smiled as she did it, hoping to take the sting out of the words.
"Hello, match." Somehow his snagged-silk voice gave them an entirely different meaning.”
― The Darkest Part of the Forest
“Saintliness means turning pain to good account. It means forcing the devil to
be God.”
― The Thief's Journal
be God.”
― The Thief's Journal
“He rises from the throne. “Come, have a seat.” His voice is replete with danger, lush with menace. The flowering branches have sprouted thorns so thickly that petals are barely visible.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks. “What you sacrificed everything for. Go on. It’s all yours.”
― The Cruel Prince
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks. “What you sacrificed everything for. Go on. It’s all yours.”
― The Cruel Prince
“The three of you have one solution to every problem. Murder. No key fits every lock.” Cardan gives us all a stern look, holding up a long-fingered hand with my stolen ruby ring still on one finger. “Someone tries to betray the High King, murder. Someone gives you a harsh look, murder. Someone disrespects you, murder. Someone ruins your laundry, murder.”
― The Wicked King
― The Wicked King
“Tell me again what you said at the revel,” he says, climbing over me, his body against mine.
“What?” I can barely think.
“That you hate me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Tell me that you hate me.”
“I hate you,” I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
He kisses me harder.
“I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can’t think of anything else.”
― The Wicked King
“What?” I can barely think.
“That you hate me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Tell me that you hate me.”
“I hate you,” I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
He kisses me harder.
“I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can’t think of anything else.”
― The Wicked King
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