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Libraries were full of ideas—perhaps the most dangerous and powerful of all weapons.

You could rattle the stars," she whispered. "You could do anything, if only you dared. And deep down, you know it, too. That’s what scares you most.

No. I can survive well enough on my own— if given the proper reading material.

We all bear scars,... Mine just happen to be more visible than most.

My name is Celaena Sardothien. But it makes no difference if my name's Celaena or Lillian or Bitch, because I'd still beat you, no matter what you call me.

How long was I asleep?" she whispered. He didn't respond. "How long was I asleep?" she asked again, and noticed a hint of red in his cheeks. "You were asleep, too?" "Until you began drooling on my shoulder.

Still, the image haunted his dreams throughout the night: a lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back.

Sometimes, the wicked will tell us things just to confuse us–to haunt our thoughts long after we've faced them.

She moaned into her pillow. "Go away. I feel like dying." "No fair maiden should die alone," he said, putting a hand on hers. "Shall I read to you in your final moments? What story would you like?" She snatched her hand back. "How about the story of the idiotic prince who won't leave the assassin alone?" "Oh! I love that story! It has such a happy ending, too—why, the assassin was really feigning her illness in order to get the prince's attention! Who would have guessed it? Such a clever girl. And the bedroom scene is so lovely—it's worth reading through all of their ceaseless banter!.

Of course." He picked up the brown bag of candy on the table. "What's your . . ." He trailed off as he weighed the bag in his hands. "Didn't I give you three pounds of candy?" She smiled impishly. "You ate half the bag!" "Was I supposed to save it?" "I would have liked some!" "You never told me that." "Because I didn't expect you to consume all of it before breakfast!" She snatched the bag from him and put it on the table. "Well, that just shows poor judgement on your part, doesn't it?.

In the garden, the Captain of the Guard stared up at the young woman's balcony, watching as she waltzed alone, lost in her dreams. But he knew her thoughts weren't of him. She stopped and stared upward. Even from a distance, he could see the blush upon her cheeks. She seemed young—no, new. It made his chest ache. Still, he watched, watched until she sighed and went inside. She never bothered to look below.

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.

As my friend, you should either bring me along, or keep me company." "Friend?" he asked. She blushed. "Well, 'scowling escort' is a better description. Or 'reluctant acquaintance', if you prefer.

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 the line.

Enjoyed that, did you?" Chaol growled. "Immensely." Celaena patted Chaol's arm as she took it in her own. "Now you must pretend that you like me, or else everything will be ruined.

because I can't stomach the idea of marrying a woman inferior to me in mind and spirit. It would mean the death of my soul.

Apparently, a woman can only go so long without a sword between her hands.

I never intended to escape.

He won every game, yet she hardly noticed. As long as she hit the ball, it resulted in shameless bragging. When she missed - well, even the fires of Hell couldn't compare to the rage that burst from her mouth. He couldn't remember a time when he'd laugh so hard.

His breath was warm on her neck as he bent his head, resting his cheek against her hair. Her heart beat so quickly, and yet she felt utterly calm—as if she could have stayed there forever and not minded, stayed there forever and let the world fall apart around them. She pictured his fingers, pushing against that line of chalk, reaching for her despite the barrier between them.

I don't quite comprehend why you'd force someone to bow when the purpose of the gesture is to display allegiance and respect.

You could be great. You could rattle the stars. You could do anything if only you dared.

Surprising, I know. Everyone thinks I’m older.

A lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back.

Nor had she missed when they zigzagged between levels, even though the building was a standard grid of hallways and stairwells. As if she'd lose her bearings that easily. She might have been insulted if he wasn't trying so hard.

He was done with politics and intrigue. He loved her, and no empire, no king, and no earthly fear would keep him from her. No, if they tried to take her from him, he'd rip the world apart with his bare hands. And for some reason, that didn't terrify him.

I'm not married, either.

Guards are of no use in a library. Oh, how wrong he was! Libraries were full of ideas—perhaps the most dangerous and powerful of all weapons.

What's the point in having a mind if you don't use it to make judgements?.

Don't you ever do anything other than read?" said Chaol.

Can I be honest with you?" Chaol leaned closer, and Celaena leaned to meet him as he whispered: "You sound like a raving lunatic.

I hate women like that. They're so desperate for the attention of men that they'd willingly betray and harm members of their own sex. And we claim men cannot think with their brains! At least men are direct about it.

When she awoke every morning, she repeated the same words: I will not be afraid.

She stared at the castle unflinchingly, her form silhouetted against the blazing brightness that sat on the edge of the Avery River. Clouds gathered above them and she raised her head. Through a clearing in the swirling mass, a cluster of stars could be seen. He couldn't help thinking that they gazed down at her... The image haunted his dreams throughout the night: a lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back.

You always wear that necklace," he said. "Is it another gift?" Though she wore gloves, he glanced at her hand - where the amethyst ring always sat - and the spark died from his eyes. "No." She covered the amulet with her hand. "I found it in my jewellery box and liked the look of it, you insufferably territorial man.

She had often wished for adventure, for old spells and wicked kings.

No one deserves to be whipped like an animal.

...are you as deft at handling your sword as Captain Westfall?" "Better," he whispered in her ear.

What’s the point in having a heart if you don’t use it to spare others from the harsh judgments of your mind?.

I'm impressed you got up here so quickly - and without a pack of court ladies hounding after you. Perhaps you should try your hand at being an assassin." He shook the hair out of his face. "I'm not interested in court ladies," he said thickly, and kissed her.

She was surprised that her hands had not forgotten, that somewhere in her mind, after a year of darkness and slavery, music was still alive and breathing. That somewhere, between the notes, was Sam. She forgot about time as she drifted between pieces, voicing the unspeakable, opening old wounds, playing and playing as the sound forgave and saved her.

She haunted his thoughts, made him wish to do grand and wonderful things in her name.

I'm the Captain of the Guard-I'm not exactly a catch for any of them." There was sorrow in his eyes, though it was well concealed. "Are you mad? You're better than anyone in here.

In the garden, the Captain of the Guard stared up at the young woman's balcony, watching as she waltzed alone, lost in her dreams. But he knew her thoughts weren't of him.

The Captain of the Guard would be an interesting opponent. Maybe even worthy of some effort on her part.

Here's a lesson for you Weapons Master," she said, stalking past him. "Give me real men to fight. Then maybe I'll bother trying.

There was good in people - deep down, there was always a shred of good.

A cluster of giggling women sat nearby, tittering about how the Crown Prince was gone on holiday to the Sorian coast, and how they wished they could join the prince and his dashing friends, and on and on until Celaena contemplated chucking her spoon at them.

To four years until freedom," she said lifting her glass. He raised his in salute. "To you, Celaena." Their eyes met, and Chaol didn't hide his smile as she grinned at him. Perhaps four years with her might not be enough.

I want a husband to warm my bed, and my bed alone.

You might fight well, but your manners are a disgrace." "I can act and talk like a lady, if it pleases me.

Some people just need a high-five. In the face. With my knives.

He didn't know why, but seeing her made him feel like a man. She was something out of a dream - a dream in which he was not a spoiled young prince, but a king.

She never bothered to look down.

She brought her mouth close to his ear. "My name is Celaena Sardothien," she whispered. "But it makes no difference if my name's Celaena or Lillian or Bitch, because I'd still beat you, no matter what you call me." She smiled at him as she stood. He just stared up at her, his bloody nose leaking down the side of his cheek. She took the handkerchief from her pocket and dropped it on his chest. "You can keep that," she said before she walked off the veranda.

Perhaps you should consider your difficulty in getting past Wendlyn's naval defences to be a sign that you should stop playing at being a god." "Playing?" The King smiled, his crooked teeth glowing yellow in the firelight. "I am not playing. And this is not a game.