Quotessence
Home / Authors / Sarah J. Maas
Sarah J. Maas

Sarah J. Maas Quotes

Author

Filter quotes by topic

Famous Sarah J. Maas Quotes

“Cassian titled his head to the side at her silence. 'What is it?' 'Would you train non-Illyrian females?' 'I'm training you, aren't I?' 'I mean, would you consider...' She didn't know how to elegantly phrase it, not like silver-tongued Rhysand. 'The priestesses in the library. If I invited them to train with us here, where it's private and safe. Would you train them?' Cassian blinked slowly. 'Yes. I mean, of course, but...' He winced. 'Nesta, many of the females in the library do not want to be- cannot stand to be- around males again.' 'Then we'll ask one of your female friends to join. Mor or anyone else you can think of.' 'The priestesses might not even be able to stomach having me present.' 'You'd never hurt anyone like that.' His eyes softened slightly. 'It's not about that for them. It's about the fear- the trauma they bear. Even if they know I'd never do that to them, I might still drag up memories that are incredibly difficult for them to face.' 'You said this training would help me with my... problems. Perhaps it could help them. At the very least give them a reason to get outside for a bit.' Cassian watched her for a long moment. Then he said, 'Whoever you can get up here with us, I'll gladly train. Mor's away, but I can ask Feyre-' 'Not Feyre,' Nesta hated the words. The way his back stiffened. She couldn't look at him as she said, 'I just...' How could she explain the tangle between her and her sister? The self-loathing that threatened to consume her every time she looked at her sister's face? 'All right,' Cassian repeated. 'Not Feyre. But I need to give her and Rhys a heads-up. You should probably ask Clotho for permission, too.' A warm hand clasped her shoulder and squeezed. 'I like this idea, Nes.' His hazel eyes shone bright. 'I like it a lot.' And for some reason, the words meant everything.”

“What if I tell you what the rock and darkness and sea beyond whispered to me, Lord of Bloodshed? How they shuddered in fear, on that island across the sea. How they trembled when she emerged. She took something - something precious. She ripped it out with her teeth. What did you wake that day in Hybern, Prince of Bastards? What came out was not what went in. How lovely she is - new as a fawn and yet ancient as the sea. How she calls to you. A queen, as my sister once was. Terrible and proud; beautiful as a winter sunrise. Nesta. Nes-ta. How the wind moans her name. Can you hear it, too? Nesta. Nesta. Nesta. What did she do, drowning in the ageless dark? What did she take?”

“So, who won the fight?' Cassian asked the next morning as she sat on her rock and watched him go through his exercises. He hadn't asked at breakfast about the black eye and cut chin or how stiffly she'd moved. Neither had Mor upon her arrival. That the bruising and cuts remained at all told Nesta how bad the fall had been, but as High Fae, with her improved healing, they were already on the mend. ... 'What fight?' She examined her mangled nails. Even with the... whatever it was she'd flung out to catch herself, her nails had cracked. She didn't let herself name what had come from within her, didn't let herself acknowledge it. By dawn, it had been strangled into submission. 'The one between you and the stairs.' Nesta cut him a glare. 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Cassian began moving once more, drawing his sword and running through a series of movements that all seemed designed to hack a person in two. 'You know: three in the morning, you leave your room to get shit-faced drunk in town, and you're in such a rush to conquer the steps that you fall down a good thirty of them before you can stop yourself.' Had he seen the step? The handprint? She demanded. 'How do you know that?' He shrugged. 'Are you watching me?' Before he could answer, she spat. 'You were watching and didn't come to help?' Cassian shrugged again. 'You stopped falling. If you'd kept at it, someone would have eventually come to catch you before you hit the bottom.' She hissed at him. He only grinned and beckoned with a hand. 'Want to join me?' 'I should push you down those stairs.' ... 'Well?' he demanded, an edge creeping into his voice. 'If you've got those glorious bruises, you might as well claim it came from training and not a pathetic tumble.”

“You do know this is Nesta Archeron we're talking about? She does nothing unless she wishes to. And she's the least likely to listen to me. Clotho huffed a laugh. She has a will of iron. 'Of steel.' He smiled. 'Good seeing you, Clotho.' You as well, Lord Cassian. 'Just Cassian,' he said, as he had said so many times now. You are a lord in good deeds. It is not a title born, but earned. He bowed his head as he said thickly, 'Thank you.”

“—Hace quinientos años luché en campos de batalla no muy lejos de esta casa. Luché junto a humanos e inmortales, sangré con ellos. Y voy a volver a estar de pie en este campo de batalla, Nesta Archeron, para proteger esta casa.., para proteger a vuestro pueblo. No puedo pensar en una manera mejor que terminar mi existencia que defendiendo a los que más lo necesitan. Vi una lágrima sobre la mejilla de Nesta. Y vi como Cassian levantaba una mano para enjugársela.”

“Los dos machos eran altos, las alas plegadas sobre cuerpos poderosos, musculosos, cubierto de cuero oscuro, armaduras que me recordaron las escamas de algunas bestias con formas de serpientes. Los dos llevaban espadas largas idénticas, con hojas simples y muy bellas tal vez no debería haberme por la ropa elegante después de todo. El que era tan solo un poco más grande, la cara en sombras, soltó una risita y dijo: —Vamos, Feyre, no mordemos. A menos que nos pidas que lo hagamos, claro.”

“Cassian miró a Rhys de arriba abajo, el pelo largo hasta los hombros en movimiento. —Muy a la moda hoy, hermano. Y además has obligado a vestir a la pobre Fyre. —Me hizo un guiño había algo tallado toscamente en esos rasgos..., como si lo hubieran fabricado con viento, tierra y llamas y todas las formas civilizadas que lo cubrían fueran solo un inconveniente. –Capítulo 16, pág. 155”

“You really think you can beat me in hand-to-hand combat?' Blood flowed from her mouth, her nose. But Nesta smiled anyway, its tang coating her tongue. 'I do.' Bellius threw his first punch, putting the entire force of his powerful body into it. Nesta blocked it, driving her fist into his nose. Bone crunched. Bellius howled, falling back a step. And Nesta hissed, 'Because my mate taught me well.”

“Stop looking so nervous,' Cassian muttered out of the corner of his mouth. 'I'm not nervous,' Nesta muttered back, even as she bounced on her feet, trying not to stare toward the open archway as the clock ticked toward nine. 'Just relax.' He straightened his jacket. 'You're the one fidgeting,' she hissed. 'Because you're making me fidget.”

“Cassian grunted in pain, but lifted his bloodied hands- to cup her face. 'I have no regrets in my life, but this.' HIs voice shook with every word. 'That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta.' She didn't stop him as he leaned up and kissed her- lightly. As much as he could manage. Cassian said softly, brushing away the tear that streaked down her face. 'I will find you again in the next world- the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.”

“Seeing Cassian so flustered pushed away the shadows in her heart. Thoughts of the Mask became a distant rumble. 'Do you want to get in?' He sucked in a breath, but something like pain washed over his features. 'You're hurt.' ... 'Do I look injured to you?' He nodded toward the scabbed cuts all over her body, her face. 'Yes?”

“When you hammered those blades, you imbued them- the two swords and the dagger- with your power. The Cauldron's power. They're now magic blades. And I'm not talking nice, pretty magic. I'm talking big, ancient magic that hasn't been seen in a long, long time. There are no magic weapons left. None. They were either lost or destroyed or dumped in the sea. But you just Made three of them. You created a new Dread Trove. You could create even more objects, if you wished.' Her brows rose higher with each absurd word. 'I Made three magic weapons?' 'We don't know yet what manner of magic you have, but yes.' She angled her head. Emerie and Gwyn halted their chatting at the water station, as if they could see or sense the shift in her. And it wasn't the fact that she'd Made these weapons that hit like a blow. 'Who is "we"?' 'What?' 'You said " We don't know what manner of magic they have." Who is "we"?' 'Rhys and Feyre and the others.' 'And how long have all of you known about this?' He winced as he realised his error. 'I... Nesta...' 'How long?' Her voice became sharp as glass. The priestesses were watching, and she didn't care. He did, apparently. 'This isn't the place to talk about it.' 'You're the one trying to coax a name out of me in the middle of training!' She gestured to the ring. Her blood pounded in her ears, and Cassian's face grew pained. 'This isn't coming out the way it should. We argued about whether to tell you, but we took a vote and it went in your favour. Because we trust you. I just... hadn't gotten a chance to bring it up yet.' 'There was a possibility you wouldn't even tell me? You all sat around and judged me, and then you voted?' Something deep in her chest cracked to know that every horrible thing about her had been analyzed. 'It... Fuck.' Cassian reached for her, but she stepped back. Everyone was staring now. 'Nesta, this isn't...' 'Who. Voted. Against me.' 'Rhys and Amren.' 'It landed like a physical blow. Rhys came as no surprise. But Amren, who had always understood her more than the others; Amren who'd been unafraid of her; Amren with whom she'd quarrelled so badly... Some small part of her had hoped Amren wouldn't hate her forever. Her head went quiet. Her body went quiet. Cassian's eyes widened. 'Nesta-' 'I'm fine,' she said coldly. 'I don't care.' She let him see her fortify those steel walls within her mind. Used every bit of Mind-Stilling she'd practiced with Gwyn to become calm, focused, steady. Breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth. She made a show of rolling her shoulders, of approaching Emerie and Gwyn, whose faces bunched with concern in a way Nesta knew she didn't deserve, in a way that she knew would only day vanish, when they, too, realised what a wretch she was. When Amren told them what a pathetic waste of life she was, or they heard it from someone else, and they ceased being her friends. She wouldn't if they'd even say it to her face, or if they'd just disappear. 'Nesta,' Cassian said again. But she left the ring without looking back at him. Emerie was on her heels instantly, trailing her down the stairs. 'What's wrong?' 'Nothing,' Nesta said, her own voice foreign to her ears. 'Court business.' 'Are you all right?' Gwyn asked, a step behind Emerie. No. She couldn't stop the roaring in her head, the cracking in her chest. 'Yes,' she lied, and didn't look back as she hit the landing and vanished down the hall.”

“I thought I'd find you here. Well, either here or the stairs to the city.' Cassian's voice sounded behind her, and Nesta whirled. He went on alert, but Nesta glanced over a shoulder toward the darkness. Nothing. It was gone. Or she'd imagined it. 'It's nothing,' she said as she peered over the railing. 'Just shadows.' Cassian blew out a breath, leaning against the railing. 'Can't sleep?' 'I keep thinking about Tamlin.' 'You did well with him. And you did well against Eris, too. I don't think he'll forget that anytime soon.' 'He's a snake.' 'Glad we agree on something.' Nesta huffed a laugh. 'I didn't appreciate him speaking to you like that.' 'It's how a lot of people speak to me.' 'That doesn't make it right.' She had spoken to him like that. She had said far worse things to Cassian than Eris had. Her throat tightened. But she said, 'I can't believe Feyre ever loved Tamlin.' 'Tamlin never deserved her,' Cassian rested a hand on her back. 'No,' Nesta again peered into the darkness below. 'He didn't.”

“There are different kinds of darkness,' Rhys said. I kept my eyes shut. 'There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful.' I pictured each. 'There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.' I only saw the darkness of that dungeon cell; the darkness of the Bone Carver's lair. Cassian swore, but Azriel murmured a soft challenge that had their blades striking again. 'Open your eyes,' I did. And found darkness all around me. Not from me- but from Rhys. As if the sparring ring had been wiped away, as if the world had yet to begin. Quiet. Soft. Peaceful. Lights began twinkling- little stars, blooming irises of blue and purple and white. I reached out a hand toward one, and starlight danced on my fingertips. Far away, in another world perhaps, Azriel and Cassian sparred in the dark, no doubt using it as a training exercise. I shifted the star between my fingers like a coin on the hand of a magician. Here in the soothing, sparkling dark, a steady breath filled my lungs. I couldn't remember the last time I'd done such a thing. Breathed easily. Then the darkness splintered and vanished, swifter than smoke on wind. I found myself blinking back the blinding sun, arm still out, Rhysand still before me. Still without a shirt.”

“Did Nesta say why she won't train?' 'Because she hates me.' Feyre snorted. 'Cassian, Nesta does not hate you. Believe me.' 'She sure as shit acts like it.' Feyre shook her head. 'No, she doesn't.' Her words were pained enough that he frowned. 'She doesn't hate you, either.' he said quietly. Feyre shrugged. The gesture made his chest ache. 'For a while, I thought she didn't. But now I don't know.' 'I don't understand why you two can't just...' He struggled for the right word. 'Get along? Be civil? Smile at each other?' Feyre's laugh was hollow. 'It's always been that way.' 'Why?' 'I have no idea. I mean, it was always that way with us, and our mother. She only had an interest in Nesta. She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up, but Nesta was hers. Our mother made sure we knew it. Or she just cared so little what we thought or did that she didn't bother to hide it from us.' Resentment and long-held pain laced every word. That a mother would do such a thing to her children... 'But when we fell into poverty, when I started hunting, it got worse. Our mother was gone, and our father wasn't exactly present. He wasn't fully there. So it was me and Nesta, always at each other's throats.' Feyre rubbed her face. 'I'm too exhausted to go over every detail. It's all just a tangled mess.' Cassian refrained from observing that both sisters seemed to need each other- that Nesta perhaps needed Feyre more than she realised. And from mentioning that this mess between the two females hurt him more than he could express. Feyre sighed, 'That's my long way of saying that if Nesta hated you... I know what it looks like, and she doesn't hate you.' 'She might after what I said to her tonight.”

“Cassian blurted, 'I didn't mean what I said last night- about everyone hating you.' She halted, her blue-grey eyes frosting. 'It's true.' 'It's not.' He dared one step closer. 'You're here because we don't hate you.' He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. 'I wanted you to know that. That we don't- that I don't hate you.' She weighed whatever the hell lay in his stare. Likely more than was wise to let her see. But she said quietly, 'And I have never hated you, Cassian.' With that, she walked through the doorway into the House, as if she hadn't hit him right in the gut, first with the words, then by using his name. It wasn't until she'd vanished down the stairs that he released the breath he'd been holding.”

“I get this feeling,' I said, pacing a step, the ancient wood floorboards creaking beneath my boots, my power a writhing, living thing prowling through my veins, 'that it's all some sort of joke. Some sort of cosmic trick, and that no one- no one- can be this happy and not pay for it.' 'You've already paid for it, Rhys. Both of you. And then some.' I waved a hand. 'I just...' I trailed off, unable to finish the words. Cassian stared at me for a long moment. Then he crossed the distance between us, gathering me in an embrace so tight I could barely breathe. 'You made it. We made it. You both endured enough that no one would blame you if you danced off into the sunset like Miryam and Drakon and never bothered with anything else again. But you are bothering- you're both still working to make this peace last. Peace, Rhys. We have peace, and the true kind. Enjoy it- enjoy each other. You paid the debt before it was ever a debt.' My throat tightened, and I gripped him hard around his wings, the scales of his leathers digging into my fingers. 'What about you?' I asked, pulling away after a moment. 'Are you... happy?' Shadows darkened his hazel eyes. 'I'm getting there.' A halfhearted answer. I'd have to work on that, too. Perhaps there were threads to be pulled, woven together. Cassian jerked his chin toward the door. 'Get going, you bastard. I'll see you in three days.' I nodded, opening the door at last. But paused on the threshold. 'Thanks, brother.' Cassian's crooked grin was bright, even if those shadows still guttered in his eyes. 'It's an honour, my lord.”