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Holly Black

Holly Black Books

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White Cat

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Black Heart

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Red Glove

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Valiant

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Ironside

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Tithe

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Book of Night

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Doll Bones

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Kin

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The Iron Trial

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Related Quotes

“I put the withered leaf in my mouth first. Then I place the bone on the cut root where my tongue used to be, close my eyes, and concentrate. Immediately, I feel as though my chest is being squeezed, as though my ribs are cracking. Something is wrong. Something is wrong with me. I fall to my knees, palms pressed against the ice of the floor. Something seems to twist inside my chest, then split, like a fissure opening in a glacier. The hard knot of my magic, the part of me that has felt in danger of unravelling when I push myself too hard, splits completely apart. I gasp, because it hurts. It hurts so much my mouth opens on a scream I cannot make. It hurts so much that I black out. ... With astonishment, I realise my tongue is in my mouth. It feels odd to have it there. Thick and heavy. I cannot decide if it is swollen of if I am just oddly conscious of it. 'I'm scared,' I whisper to myself. Because it's true. Because I need to know if my tongue belongs to me and will say the things I mean it to. 'I'm so tired. I'm so tired of being scared.”

MagicTiredScaredTongueWrongHolly BlackThe Stolen HeirSurenWren
Book:The Stolen Heir
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“Cardan ought to have been the boy with the heart of stone in Aslog's story, but somehow he had let his heart turn to glass. He could feel the shattered shards of it lodged in his lungs, making his every breath painful. Cardan had trusted Nicasia not to hurt him, which was ridiculous, since he well knew that everyone hurts one another and that the people you loved hurt you the most grievously. Since he was well aware that they both took delight in hurting everyone else that they could, how could he have thought himself safe?”

HeartbreakHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirHeartbrokenCardan GreenbriarCardanBroken HeartedCheated OnNicasia
Book:How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
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“I am curious about your change of heart.' ... For a long moment, Nicasia didn't speak. She picked at a fishcake. Cardan raised his eyebrows. 'Ah, you didn't make the choice to leave him, did you?' 'It's more complicated than that,' she told him. 'And it affects you as well.' 'Does it?' he inquired. 'You must listen! Locke's taken one of the mortal girls as his lover,' Nicasia said, obviously attempting to keep her voice from shaking. Cardan was silent, his thoughts thrown in to confusion. One of the mortal girls. 'You can't expect me to pity you,' he said finally, voice tight. 'No,' she said slowly. 'I expect you to laugh in my face and tell me that it's no more than I deserve.' She looked out toward Hollow Hall, miserable. 'But I think Locke means to humiliate you as much as he does me in doing this.. How does it look, after all, to steal your lover and then tire of her so quickly?' He didn't care how it made him look. He didn't care in the least. 'Which one?' Cardan asked. 'Which mortal girl?' 'Does it matter?' Nicasia was clearly exasperated. 'Either. Both.' It shouldn't matter. The human girls were insignificant, nothing. In fact, he ought to feel delighted that Nicasia had such swift cause to regret what she'd done. And if he felt even angrier than he had before, well then, he had no cause. 'At least you will have the pleasure of seeing what the Grand General does when Locke inevitably mishandles the situation.' 'That's not enough,' she said. 'What then?' 'Punish them.' She took his hands, her expression fierce. 'Punish all three of them. Convince Valerian he'd like tormenting the mortals. Force Locke to play along. Make them all suffer.' 'You should have led with that,' Cardan told her, getting to his feet. 'That I would have agreed to just for fun.”

HeartbreakRevengeHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirCardan GreenbriarCardanLockeNicasia
Book:How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories
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“He doesn't look in my direction. It's as though he doesn't see me or that I am as uninteresting as a piece of furniture. I wish it didn't bother me. I wish I didn't remember standing at the very top of the highest tower on his estate, his body warm against mine. I wish he hadn't used me to test my sister's love for him. I wish she hadn't let him. If wishes were horses, my mortal father used to say, beggars would ride. Another of those phrases that makes no sense until it does.”

HeartbreakHolly BlackWishesThe Folk Of The AirJude DuarteJudeThe Wicked KingLockeBeing Ignored
Book:The Wicked King
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“Gavriel sat stock-still. Inside him roiled such turmoil that he feared that should he move, he would smash every piece of furniture in the room, crack every pane of every window, until there was nothing but shining splinters where the parlor had been. Instead, he leaned back his head and laughed, a long, cruel laugh that did not seem to belong to the boy Roza had known. It blazed up from deep inside him, from some embers he’d always been careful never to stoke.”

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Book:The Coldest Girl in Coldtown
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“I concentrate on what I am going to say to Vivi, instead of thinking of Cardan. I do not want to consider what happened between us. I do not want to think about the way his muscles moved or how his skin felt or the soft gasping sounds he made or the slide of his mouth against mine. I definitely don’t want to think about how hard I had to bite my own lip to keep quiet. Or how obvious it was that I’d never done any of the things we did, no less the things we didn’t do.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“For a moment, there is silence between us. He takes a step toward me. “The other night—” I cut him off. “I did it for the same reason that you did. To get it out of my system.” “And is it?” he asks. “Out of your system?” I look him in the face and lie. “Yes.” If he touches me, if he even takes another step toward me, my deceit will be exposed. I don’t think I can keep the longing off my face. Instead, to my relief, he gives a thin-lipped nod and departs. From the next room, I hear the Roach call out to Cardan, to offer to teach him the trick of levitating a playing card. I hear Cardan laugh. It occurs to me that maybe desire isn’t something overindulging helps. Maybe it is not unlike mithridatism; maybe I took a killing dose when I should have been poisoning myself slowly, one kiss at a time.”

DesireSexLonging
Book:The Wicked King
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“Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop.' I am shocked in to silence. 'Maybe you should shoot me after all,' he says, covering his face with one long-fingered hand. ... He doesn't look up as I walk around the desk to him. I place the tip of the blade against the bottom of his chin, as I did the day before in the hall, and I tilt his face toward mine. He shifts his gaze with obvious reluctance. The horror and shame on his face look entirely too real. Suddenly, I am not so sure what to believe. I lean toward him, close enough for a kiss. His eyes widen. The look in his face is some commingling of panic and desire. It is a heady feeling, having power over someone. Over Cardan, who I never thought had any feelings at all. 'You really do want me,' I say, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath as it hitches. 'And you hate it.' I change the angle of the knife, turning it so it's against his neck. He doesn't look nearly as alarmed by that as I might expect. Not nearly as alarmed as when I bring my mouth to his.”

DesireHorrorShameHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirJude DuarteCardan GreenbriarJudeCardanThe Cruel Prince
Book:The Cruel Prince
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“...kissing Locke never felt the way that kissing Cardan does, like taking a dare to run over knives, live an adrenaline strike of lightning, like the moment when you've swum too far out in the sea and there is no going back, only cold black water closing over your head. Cardan's cruel mouth is surprisingly soft, and for a long moment after our lips touch, he's still as a statue. His eyes close, lashes brushing my cheek. I shudder, as you're supposed to when someone walks over your grave. Then his hands come up, gentle as they glide over my arms. If I didn't know better, I'd say his touch was reverent, but I do know better. HIs hands are moving slowly because he is trying to stop himself. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want to want this. He tastes like sour wine. I can feel the moment he gives in and gives up, pulling me to him despite the threat of the knife. He kisses me hard, with a kind of devouring desperation, fingers digging in to my hair. Our mouths slide together, teeth over lips over tongues. Desire hits me like a kick to the stomach. It's like fighting, except what we're fighting for is to crawl inside each other's skin. That's the moment when terror seizes me. What kind of insane revenge is there in exulting in his revulsion? And worse, far worse, I like this. I like everything about kissing him- the familiar buzz of fear, the knowledge I am punishing him, the proof he wants me. The knife in my hand is useless. I throw it at the desk, barely registering as the point sinks in to the wood. He pulls back from me at the sound, startled. HIs mouth is pink, his eyes dark. He sees the knife and barks out a startled laugh. Which is enough to make me stagger back. I want to mock him, to show up his weakness without revealing mine, but I don't trust my face not to show too much. 'Is that what you imagined?' I ask, and am relieved to find that my voice sounds harsh. 'No,' he said tonelessly. 'Tell me,' I say. He shakes his head, somewhere chagrined. 'Unless you're really going to stab me, I think I won't. And I might not tell you even if you were going to stab me.' I get up on Dain's desk to put some distance between us. My skin feels too tight, and the room seems suddenly too small. He almost made me laugh there.”

DesireKissingKissHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirJude DuarteCardan GreenbriarJudeCardanThe Cruel Prince
Book:The Cruel Prince
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“Is this what you imagined I'd be like, back in your rooms at Hollow Hall, when you thought of me and hated it? Is this how you pictured my eventual surrender?' He looks absolutely mortified, but there's no disguising the flush of his cheeks, the shine of his eyes. 'Yes,' he says, sounding like the word was dragged out of him, his voice rough with desire. 'Then what did I do?' I ask, my voice low. I reach out to press my hand against his thigh. His gaze shimmers with a sharp spike of heat. There's a wariness in his face, though, and I realise he believes i might be asking him all this because I'm angry. Because I want to see him humiliated. But he keeps speaking anyway. 'I imagined you telling me to do with you whatever I liked.' 'Really?' I ask, and the surprised laugh in mny voice makes him meet my gaze. 'Along with some begging on your part. A little light grovelling.' He gives me an embarrassed smile. 'My fantasies were rife with overweening ambition.”

DesireHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirCardan GreenbriarCardanProvocativeThe Queen Of NothingFantasies
Book:The Queen of Nothing
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“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 what 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 in to his mouth. 'I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else.' At that, he makes a harsh, low sound.”

LyingDesireLustHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirJude DuarteCardan GreenbriarJudeCardanThe Wicked King
Book:The Wicked King
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“He takes a step toward me. 'The other night-' I cut him off. 'I did it for the same reason that you did. To get it out of my system.' 'And it it?' he asks. 'Out of your system?' I look him in the face and lie. 'Yes.' If he touches me, if he even takes another step toward me, my deceit will be exposed. I don't think I can keep the longing off my face. Instead, to my relief, he gives a thin-lipped nod and departs. ... It occurs to me that maybe desire isn't something overindulging helps. Maybe it is not unlike mithridatism; maybe I took a killing dose when I should have been poisoning myself slowly, one kiss at a time.”

LyingDesireLongingHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirJude DuarteCardan GreenbriarJudeCardanThe Wicked King
Book:The Wicked King
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“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 in to his mouth. 'I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else.' At that, he makes a harsh, low sound.”

DesireKissingLustHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirJude DuarteCardan GreenbriarJudeCardanThe Wicked King
Book:The Wicked King
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“The gown is the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen,' I say to her, as I can pay her no other way without insult. It has been a long time since I have been given a gift, barbed though it may be. 'It does feel as though it might come from a dream.' That makes Habetrot's cheeks pink. 'Good. Maybe you will come back and tell me how the Prince of Sunlight liked the Queen of Night.' Embarrassed, I step out into the hall, wondering how she could believe that a dress- no matter how beautiful- could make me into an object of desire.”

BeautifulDesireHolly BlackGorgeousThe Stolen HeirSurenWrenDressHabetrotObject Of Desire
Book:The Stolen Heir
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“I let myself relax into the moment, into friendship. 'Now what about my hairpin?' He grins and hands it over. I smooth my thumb over the silver bird, then use it to pull back his hair, instead of mine. As my fingers skim over his neck, threading through the silk of his locks, he shudders from something I do not think is cold. I am suddenly too aware of the physicality of him, his long legs and the curve of his mouth, the hollow of his throat and the sharp point of his ears, where earrings once hung. Of the hairs hanging loose from my pin, falling across one light brown horn to rest on his cheekbone. When his eyes meet mine, desire, as keen as any blade, bends the air between us. The moment slows. I want to bite his lip. To feel the heat of his skin. To slide my hands beneath his armour and trace the map of his scars.”

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Book:The Stolen Heir
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“Will you tell me how you came to be living...' He stops, as if trying to find the words. 'As you were.' I remember the care I'd given that he not know. How could I explain the way time seemed to slip from my fingers, the way I became incrementally more detached, more unable to reach out a hand to take something I wanted? I will not allow him to pity me any more than he does. 'You could have come to see me,' he says. 'If you need something.' I laugh at that. 'You?' He frowns down at me with his amber eyes. 'Why not?' The enormity of the reasons catches in my mouth. He's a prince of Elfhame, and I am the disgraced child of traitors. He befriends everyone, from the troll guard at the entrance to all those Tiernan mentioned back in the High Court, while I have spent years alone in the woods. But most of all, because he could have asked his sister to allow me to stay on the Shifting Isles and didn't. 'Perhaps I wanted to save that favour you still owe me,' I say. He laughs at that. Oak liking me is as silly as the sun liking a storm, but that doesn't stop my desire for it. Me, with my sharp teeth and chilly skin. It's absurd. It's grotesque. And yet, the way he looks at me, it almost seems possible.”

DesirePityHolly BlackIsolatedDetachedThe Stolen HeirSurenWrenOakOak Greenbriar
Book:The Stolen Heir
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