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Romantasy Quotes

Browse 252 quotes about Romantasy.

Romantasy Quotes

“They were chocolate-covered orange slices, each slice perfect and plump as a jewel, with smooth-as-silk chocolate encasing half of them. She felt a lump in her throat. She hadn't known he'd been listening when she talked about oranges weeks ago. He'd barely liked her then. In fact, she was certain he hadn't. All of a sudden, it felt like her family was here with her, even though they hadn't yet written back to the letter she'd sent--- it had been picked up by a passing sailor weeks ago, but no boat had returned with a response. Still, here was a bit of home. Terlu blinked quickly. "You don't like them?" he said, concerned. "I know you said you remembered candied oranges from your Winter Feast, but then I thought with your story about the orange tree..." "It's perfect," she said. "You're perfect.”

“You know that I am one of the foremost living experts on the ways of the Folk," I said. I was not worried about bragging, for this was a simple statement of fact. "That is the problem," Lilja replied. "Yes, I know that you know the Folk, but there is a difference between knowing and feeling. Those of us who live among them would never trust the tall ones. For all you have read about and studied the Folk, you have never truly lived with them, dear. They are like--- like nature. Can you understand the feeling of a winter night, or a spring wind, if you have only read about it?" This was an uncomfortable echo of something Farris had said to me once. I pursed my lips and replied, "All right. Let us accept for the sake of argument that you possess a truer understanding of the Folk than I, that books and academic knowledge are secondary to lived experience. What then would you have me fear?" She hesitated. "Power," she said at last. "In our stories, it is the great ones--- the lords and ladies, the monarchs and generals, that one must avoid above all else. They are the true monsters lurking in the night." This again! I thought. Aloud I said, "I have heard a similar opinion recently from another friend of mine, who seems to think Wendell will abandon me to die of exposure or some such, I suppose when he becomes tired of me." "Oh, no!" Lilja said. "That is not what I meant--- I don't believe for a second that Wendell would harm you. But I worry there will come a day when you no longer recognize him. And what hurt is worse than that?”

“It was Draven. He’d come up behind me. I jumped for a second time that morning, unable to help myself, then glared up at him. “How did you even do that?” “I have the ears of an exmoor and the tread of a fenrir,” he said with a smirk. “I’d say comparing yourself to wild animals was fitting, except the exmoor seems highly intelligent,” I muttered.”

“I let my eyelids fall closed. In my mind, Draven’s voice rang out over and over, shouting my name. His voice was more powerful than the sea. More primordial than the stars. My name was on his lips as he promised unspeakable darkness to any who came between us.”

“They lingered by a stall that sold scarves that shimmered like the sky--- you could see sunset spread across the fabric, deepening from pale blue to rose and orange, then to deep blue scattered with stars. Jack wrapped one around Calisa's shoulders, and she held the fabric up to her eyes, watching it twinkle between her fingers. "Beautiful," she said. "Yes," he agreed. He was looking at her, not the scarf.”

“The flames flickered, casting dancing shadows along the wall, as the lute player jumped lightly down to the floor. He was an otherworldly vision. His hair a wild tangle of amber curls, his eyes a rich, liquid gold that sparkled like a fine ale. He was dressed for battle, clad in a coat of mail, silver links glistening overtop a thick, forest-green tunic. A quiver of red-tipped arrows hung at his back and he held a bow loosely in one hand. Rows of small knives were strapped across his chest. His sleeves had been rolled up to reveal strong forearms and sun-kissed skin. Snug trousers made of a sturdy green fabric emphasized the length of his lean legs, and were tucked into tall, black leather boots that came up to his knees. As he crossed the room towards us he moved with a lithe, feline grace I had only seen before in one other man.”

“Ajax Kane's POV “I think I have a new nickname for you,” I hum. “And what would that be?” “Hurricane.” “That’s an odd one. Usually people equate me to sunshine.” Margaret groans as she turns around and swings her legs on either side of my thighs, transitioning the back and forth swivel to steady rotations on my lap. “That’s because they don’t know you like I do baby. Sometimes you like to stir up some trouble. Cause a little chaos. Other times you come ripping through hard enough to make a man need to start his whole life over.”

“You're coming to France with me?" He shakes his head, turning to face the horizon. "I'm going to see the world. But I'll always make the trip for a dance with you." I lift a brow. "Will you, now?" He puffs out his chest. "Hey, you're never going to find a better pas de deux partner than me. Besides, what we have together is magic. Literally." I smile. "I suppose you're right, angel." He smirks, taking me in his embrace and dipping me over shimmering water. As the sun glimmers against the waves, we share one last kiss before the starlit sea.”

“Something changed. The glow in my chest ballooned down to my fingertips. I couldn’t feel the monster, nor could I hear its voice, as sunshine and power poured into my limbs, filling my heart to bursting. I gathered all the love I could muster for Eva, all the years spent missing her, all the ways she’d changed me and made me new. The flowers around us seemed to sigh, the heartbeat of the earth so close I could taste it. I could take it. But I didn’t want to take things anymore. I wanted to mend. A heady sensation filled the gaps in my mind where the darkness lay. But this was not my monster. It was sweet, and it poured through me, through Eva too, bright and sweet as sticky, sugary gold. Every breath was honeyed. Every breath was life.”

“Leave me,” he groaned in pain. “Run.”
His face paled, blood dribbling between his lips as he coughed. I’d seen death on people’s faces more times than I could count. Death had a way of revealing people’s true natures. Some people begged, some threatened, some tried to bargain. And this idiot I didn’t even know was dying and still trying to help me. I hated him for it. He started trying to talk again, grabbing at my hands. “Shut up, dumbass,” I hissed at him, pressing harder at his wound. He cried out in pain, but his cry cut off as the familiar warmth spread from my chest down my arms and into his stomach. The bullet had gone clean through his gut. Normally a death wound, but not tonight. I could feel his body mending beneath my fingers, all the muscles and organs knitting themselves back together. His hand curled over the top of one of mine, squeezing gently, and I glanced up to see his eyes full of awe. The wound closed shut, leaving what I knew would be a fresh pink scar, and all the warmth left me.”

“This queen seems no better." He came close to me, looking me up and down as a glint of mischief came into his eyes. "But mortals can be entertaining. And they do not break as easily as some think." Wendell's expression went from one of bemusement to towering fury with such abruptness that both Taran and I fell back a step; Taran afterwards looked annoyed as a cat following a moment of gracelessness. There came a terrible rumbling sound, coupled with that same wet rustling with which I am all too familiar, as if the attentive oaks were uprooting themselves en masse and lumbering in our direction. "You are speaking to a queen of Faerie," Wendell said, and it seemed as if the rustling leaves were in his voice.”

“He also looked very handsome, even though there was a smear of dirt on his gold-hued cheek that she very much wanted to wipe off. She resisted the urge, though, since he was looking at her with so much confusion and alarm in his face that she thought he might flee if she tried. She knew what he was seeing when he looked at her: a short, plump, pastel-colored woman who was pretty in the same kind of harmless way that bunnies are pretty.”

“You think I’m like him?” he growled. “You think I want this? You think I want to be tied to some mortal? To a blightborn who despises me?” I glared at him, my chest tightening. “But you’re right about one thing, Pendragon. Why should I fight so hard to leash the monster inside when you’re so determined to bring him out?”