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Quote by Holly Black

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The Cruel Prince

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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

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“In a moment, I am going to ask you to put the blade through your hand. When I ask you to do that, I want you to remember where your bones are, where you veins are. I want you to stab through your hand doing the least damage possible.' His voice is lulling, hypnotic, but my heart speeds anyway. Against my will, I aim the sharp point of the knife. I press is lightly against my skin. I am ready. I hate him, but I am ready. I hate him, and I hate myself. 'Now,' he says, and the glamour releases me. I take a half step back. I am in control of myself again, still holding the knife. ... My eyes on him, I slam the knife in to my hand. The pain is a wave that rises higher and higher but never crashes. I make a sound low in my throat. I may not deserve punishment for this, but I deserve punishment. Dain's expression is odd, blank. He takes a step back from me, as though I am the one who did the shocking thing instead of merely doing what he ordered.”

“I shrug. 'They were just dead flowers.' 'They were mutilated violets.' HIs mouth tightens and I go to him, resting my hands on his head. 'It's not like they came with a death note or anything.' I tease, stroking his soft brown hair. He looks up at me, the mage lights making his eyes a little brighter above his trim beard. 'They're threats.' I shrug. 'Every cadet gets threatened.' 'Every cadet doesn't have to wrap their knees every day,' he fires back. 'The injured ones do.”

“I never said I don't think you can cut it, Violet.' 'You say it every day!' I snap. 'You say it when you walk me from formation to class, which I know makes you late for flight line. You say it when you yell at your wingleader when he takes me to the mat-' 'He had no right to-' 'He's my wingleader!' I shrug my tunic over my head. 'He has the right to do whatever he wants- including execute me.' 'And that's why you need to get the hell out of here!' Dain laces his fingers behind his neck, and begins to pace. 'I've been watching, Vi. He's just toying with you, like a cat plays with a mouse before the kill.' 'I've held my own so far!' My satchel is heavy with books as I settle it on my shoulder. 'I've won every challenge-' 'Except today when he wiped the floor with you time and again.' He grasps my shoulders. 'Or did you miss the part when he took every weapon so you knew exactly how easy it is to defeat you?' I raise my chin and glare at him. 'I was there, and I've survived almost two months in this place, which is more than I can say for a fourth of my year!”

“Change your mind.' It's barely a whisper. 'No.' I sound way more confident than I feel. 'Change. Your. Mind.' HIs hand finds mine, concealed by our tight formation as we descend through the passage. 'Please.' 'I can't.' I shake my head. 'Any more than you would leave Cath and run to the scribes yourself.' 'That's different.' His hand squeezes mine, and I can feel the tension in his fingers, in his arm. 'I'm a rider.' 'Well, maybe I am, too.' I whisper as light appears ahead. I didn't believe it before, not when I couldn't leave because my mother wouldn't let me, but now I have a choice. And I choose to stay. 'Don't be-' He cuts himself off and drops my hand. 'I don't want to bury you, Vi.' 'It's inevitable that one of us will have to bury the other.”

“You just want her to be like you,' Dain argues. 'A cold-blooded killer. Soon you'll be telling her that it's all right, you get used to the killing.' I inhale a sharp breath. Xaden nails him with a glare. 'The blood in my veins is as warm as yours, Aetos, and if it's my job you want next year, then you'd better start understanding that you never get used to killing, but you do understand that it's necessary.' He turns back to me, his dark gaze boring into mine. 'This isn't primary school. This is war- and you heard me say it once before, but the ugly truth those not on the front lines choose to forget is there are always body bags in war.”