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Prince Dain Quotes

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Prince Dain Quotes

“Too difficult? Better not to make the attempt? Those are the words of a coward,' Cardan said, full of childish bravado. In truth, his brother intimidated him, but that only made him more scornful. Prince Dain smiled. 'Let us exchange arrows at least. Then, if you miss, you can say that it was my arrow then went awry.' Prince Cardan ought to have been suspicious of this kindness, but he'd had little enough of the real thing to tell true from false. Instead, he notched Dain's arrow and pulled back the bowstring, aiming for the walnut. A sinking feeling came over him. He might not shoot true. He might hurt the man. But on the heels of that, angry glee sparked at the idea of doing something so horrifying that his father could no longer ignore him. If he could not get the High King's attention for something good, then perhaps he could get if for something really, really bad. Cardan's hand wobbled. The mortal's liquid eyes watched him in frozen fear. Enchanted, of course. No one would stand like that willingly. That was what decided him. Cardan forced a laugh as he relaxed the bowstring, letting the arrow fall out of the notch. 'I simply will not shoot under these conditions,' he said, feeling ridiculous at having backed down. 'The wind is coming from the north and mussing my hair. It's getting all in my eyes.' But Prince Dain raised his bow and loosed the arrow Cardan had exchanged with him. It struck the mortal through the throat. He dropped with almost no sound, eyes still open, now staring at nothing. It happened so fat that Cardan didn't cry out, didn't react. He just stared at his brother, slow, terrible understanding crashing over him. 'Ah,' said Prince Dain with a satisfied smile. 'A shame. It seems your arrow went awry. Perhaps you can complain to our father about that hair in your eyes.”

“Too difficult? Better not to make the attempt? Those are the words of a coward,' Cardan said, full of childish bravado. In truth, his brother intimidated him, but that only made him more scornful. Prince Dain smiled. 'Let us exchange arrows at least. Then, if you miss, you can say that it was my arrow then went awry.' Prince Cardan ought to have been suspicious of this kindness, but he'd had little enough of the real thing to tell true from false. Instead, he notched Dain's arrow and pulled back the bowstring, aiming for the walnut. A sinking feeling came over him. He might not shoot true. He might hurt the man. But on the heels of that, angry glee sparked at the idea of doing something so horrifying that his father could no longer ignore him. If he could not get the High King's attention for something good, then perhaps he could get if for something really, really bad. Cardan's hand wobbled. The mortal's liquid eyes watched him in frozen fear. Enchanted, of course. No one would stand like that willingly. That was what decided him. Cardan forced a laugh as he relaxed the bowstring, letting the arrow fall out of the notch. 'I simply will not shoot under these conditions,' he said, feeling ridiculous at having backed down. 'The wind is coming from the north and mussing my hair. It's getting all in my eyes.' But Prince Dain raised his bow and loosed the arrow Cardan had exchanged with him. It struck the mortal through the throat. He dropped with almost no sound, eyes still open, now staring at nothing. It happened so fast that Cardan didn't cry out, didn't react. He just stared at his brother, slow, terrible understanding crashing over him. 'Ah,' said Prince Dain with a satisfied smile. 'A shame. It seems your arrow went awry. Perhaps you can complain to our father about that hair in your eyes.”

“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.”

“No geas can save you from the effects of our fruits and poisons. Think carefully. I could grant you the power to enrapture all who looked upon you instead. I could give you a spot right there.' He touches my forehead. 'And anyone who saw it would be struck with love. I could give you a magical blade that cuts through starlight.”

“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 it 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.”

“The prince tilts his head to study me. 'Tell me what you dream of, Jude Duarte, if that's your true name. Tell me what you want.' ... 'To resist enchantments,' I say, trying to will myself in to stillness. Trying not to fidget. I want to seem like a serious person who makes serious bargains. He regards me steadily. 'You already have True Sight, given to you as a child. Surely you understand our ways. You know the charms. Salt our food and you destroy any ensorcellment on it. Turn your stockings inside out and you will never find yourself led astray. Keep your pockets full of dried rowan berries and your mind won't be influenced.' The last few days have shown me how woefully inadequate those protections are. 'What happens when they turn out my pockets? What happens when they rip my stockings? What happens when they scatter my salt in the dirt?”