Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Holly Black

Quote by Holly Black

“What do you want to know?' 'I found a piece of paper with my name on it,' I say. 'Over and over, just my name.' He flinches a little but doesn't say anything. 'Well?' I prompt. 'That's not a question,' he groans, as though exasperated. 'Ask me a proper question, and I'll give you an answer.' 'You're terrible at this whole "telling me whatever I want to know" thing.' My hand goes to the crossbow, but I don't pick it up. He sighs. 'Just ask me something. Ask about my tail. Don't you want to see it?' He raises his brows. I have seen his tail, but I am not going to give him the satisfaction of telling him that. 'You want me to ask you something? Fine. When did Taryn start whatever it is she has with Locke?' He laughs with delight. This appears to be a discussion he isn't interested in avoiding. Typical. 'Oh, I wondered when you would ask about that. It was some months ago. He told us all about it- throwing stones at her window, leaving her notes to meet him in the woods, wooing her by moonlight. He swore us to silence, made it all seem like a lark. I think, in the beginning, he did it to make Nicasia jealous. But later...' 'How did he know it was her room?' I ask, frowning. That makes his smile grow. 'Maybe he didn't. Maybe either of you would have done as his first mortal conquest. I believe his goal is to have both of you in the end.' I don't like this. 'What about you?' He gives me a quick, odd look. 'Locke hasn't gotten around to seducing me yet, if that's what you're asking. I suppose I should be insulted.”

Quote by Holly Black

Work

The Cruel Prince

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Holly Black
Holly Black

Holly Black, born on November 10, 1971, is a renowned fantasy fiction writer from the United States. Her works are known for their unique imagination and profound emotional depth, which have won her a large fan base. more

You May Also Like

“He made me a story, and now I am going to make a story out of someone else. 'So I am to sit here and feed you information,' Cardan says, leaning against a hickory tree. 'And you're to go charm royalty? That seems entirely backward.' I fix him a look. 'I can be charming. I charmed you, didn't I?' He rolls his eyes. 'Do not expect others to share my depraved tastes.”

“Bring me the crown, Cardan,' Balekin says. Prince Cardan turns on his elder brother the same cool and calculated gaze with which he has regarded so many other creatures before he's torn the wings from their back, before he's cast them in to rivers or sent them from the Court entirely. 'No, brother. I do not think that I will. I think that if I did not have another reason to cross you, I would do it for spite.”

“The new High King of Faerie lounges on his throne, his crown resting at an insouciant angle, his long, villainously scarlet cloak pinned at his shoulders and sweeping the floor. An earring shines from the peak of one pointed ear. Heavy rings glitter along his knuckles. His most ostentatious decoration, however, is his soft, sullen mouth. It makes him look every bit the jerk that he is.”

“The crossbow is where I left it, in the drawer of Dain's desk. I draw it out, cock it back, and point it at Cardan. He draws a ragged breath. 'You're going to shoot me?' He blinks. 'Right now?' My finger caresses the trigger. I feel calm, gloriously calm. This is weakness, to put fear above ambition, above family, above love, but it feels good. It feels like being powerful. 'I can see why you'd want to,' he says, as though reading my face, and coming to some decision. 'But I'd really prefer if you didn't.' 'Then you shouldn't have smirked at me constantly- you think I am going to stand being mocked, here, now? You still so sure you're better than me?' My voice shakes a little, and I hate him even more for it. I have trained every day to be dangerous, and he is entirely in my power, yet I'm the one who is afraid. Fearing him is a habit, a habit I could break with a bolt to his heart. He holds up his hands in protest, long bare fingers splayed. I am the one with the royal ring. 'I'm nervous,' he says. 'I smile a lot when I'm nervous. I can't help it.' That is not at all what I expected him to say. I lower the crossbow momentarily. He keeps talking, as though he doesn't want to leave me too much time to think. 'You are terrifying. Nearly my whole family is dead, and while they never had much love for me, I don't want to join them. I've spent all night worrying what you're going to do, and I know exactly what I deserve. I have a reason to be nervous.' He's talking to me as though we're friends instead of enemies. It works, too; I relax a little. When I realise that, I am nearly freaked out enough to shoot him outright.”