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The Queen of Nothing

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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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“Your beast's little trick didn't work on me,' she said with quiet steel. 'Apparently, an iron will is all it takes to keep a glamour from digging in. So I had to watch as Father and Elain went from sobbing hysterics into nothing. I had to listen to them talk about how lucky it was for you to be taken to some made-up aunt's house, how some winter wind had shattered our door. And I thought I'd gone mad- but every time I did, I would look at that painted part of the table, then at the claw marks farther down, and know it wasn't in my head.' I'd never heard of a glamour not working. But Nesta's mind was so entirely her own; she had put up such strong walls- of steel and iron and ash wood- that even a High Lord's magic couldn't pierce them. 'Elain said- said you went to visit me, though. That you tried.' Nesta snorted, her face grave and full of that long-simmering anger that she could never master. 'He stole you away into the night, claiming some nonsense about the Treaty. And then everything went on as if it had never happened. It wasn't right. None of it was right.' My hands slackened at my sides. 'You went after me,' I said. 'You went after me- to Prythian.' 'I got to the wall. I couldn't find a way through.' I raised a shaking hand to my throat. 'You trekked two days there and two days back- through the winter woods?' She shrugged, looking at the sliver she'd pried from the table. 'I hired that mercenary from town to bring me a week after you were taken. With the money from your pelt. She was the only one who seemed like she would believe me.' 'You did that- for me?' Nesta's eyes- my eyes, our mother's eyes- met mine. 'It wasn't right,' she said again. Tamlin had been wrong when we'd discussed whether my father would have ever come after me- he didn't possess the courage, the anger. If anything, he would have hired someone to do it for him. But Nesta had gone with that mercenary. My hateful, cold sister had been willing to brave Prythian to rescue me. ... I looked at my sister, really looked at her, at this woman who couldn't stomach the sycophants who now surrounded her, who had never spent a day in the forest but had gone into wolf territory... Who had shrouded the loss of our mother, then our downfall, in icy rage and bitterness, because the anger had been a lifeline, the cruelty a release. But she had cared- beneath it, she had cared, and perhaps loved more fiercely that I could comprehend, more deeply and loyally.”

Sarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronTouchingSistersShockedGlamourNesta ArcheronA Court Of Thorns And RosesNesta
Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“من الميلاد إلى الموت والأنسان فى صراع مادته وترابه يشدانه إلى تحت ,وروحه تشده إلى فوق صراع بين عدم ..ووجود والعدم ليس مجرد خواء ..أولا شئ , وإنما العدم قوة سالبة بمثل ما أن الوجود قوة موجبة المرض والشيخوخه والذبول والهزل قوى عديمة سالبة ,غلبت على الجسم . فجعلته مريضا ذابلا هزيلا فإذا غلبت هذه القوى العديمه على النفس , وجعلت المزاج النفسى متشائما يائسا قلقا كئيبا فإذا غلبت على القلب نزلت به إلى درك الحقد والأنانية والكبر والغرور والنفاق والشهوة فإذا غلبت على العقل أظلمته بغواشى الجهالة والغباء والبلادة فإذا أغشت البصيرة ألقت بها فى مهاوى الكفر والشرك والظلم وللعدم جيوش وفرسان ...وله جنود مجندة”

Philosophy
Book:هل هو عصر الجنون؟
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“OMG, did he just sext you?" Alisha clapped the phone to her chest, as good as clutching pearls. "No!" "Yeah, right." Simone tilted her head sideways, gold hoops catching the light. "You're guilty as all get-out. What did he send you, a dick pic?" The waitress sailed up to the table with a wide smile. Alisha slumped down in her seat, resisting the urge to continue the slide until she was hidden underneath the table. "What can I get for you ladies?" How about two eggs with a side of mortification? "I'll have an egg white spinach omelet," Simone said, holding loosely clasped hands by her cheek, her upturned face a ringer for a baroque saint. "But better bring my sister a smoothie, because she's so thirsty.”

SistersCockteaseSexting
Book:Digging Up Love
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