K.S. Villoso Quotes

Everything is cursed in one form or another," Enosh said, snorting. He didn't even glance up. "The mages of Enji have kept invaders at bay for centuries by inventing these stories. I walked barefoot around the lake when we first arrived. You don't see eyes growing out of my legs."

"Well," Kefier said. "Not yet.

So as we buried Warlord Tal in silence while the rest of the nation celebrated the Dragonlord's ascent, let them bury me in scandal; let them carry the sound of my name with distaste. Let them speak ill of the bitch queen who brought ruin to the land with the same gilded tongue they praised the uncrowned king who was just as responsible.

Some memories come at you like a wave. You're not quite sure when the swell starts, but you know before it hits how it all ends; that after the rise and fall you will still be engulfed by the sea.

The true story, as always, is in the details.

One time, over half of my warlords refused to attend a summit because I had failed to properly address them by the decorative titles my father had doled out like candy after the war: Minister of Horses, Master of Archery, Commissioner of Arts. Titles that had no weight in the council, because to be part of the council one actually needed to do some work. The warlords didn't even have the decency to inform me they felt slighted. If I had known they would throw such massive sulks beforehand, I would've gone and made up extra titles just to please them. I've always wanted to use Secretary of the Dung Heap.

I found it hard to believe that Rai used his charm to pull off such a feat - the man was about as charismatic as the bottom of a chamber pot.

Five years of regret has a funny way of fermenting inside someone - like wine, it had only gained potency over the years.

They called me "bitch", the she-wolf, because I murdered a man and made my husband leave the night before they crowned me.

Ancient oak, actually, is what the boy used to call her, back when he was still a boy. Like all men, he had aged too fast. She still remembers long, summer nights back in Hafod, when she would bake bread with the windows open while he would take his crutches to read his books on the kitchen table. He used to tell her how much he loved her bread, that he thinks it is the most wonderful thing in the world. He was always a flatterer, that one.

I sat on one of the sofas, pretending I wasn't disconcerted by the music, which paused long enough for a new, more sorrowful tune to play out. I twiddled my thumbs. I stared at the fish and named it "Sparky.

Our special for today is pork bone stew," the manager said.

"Pork bone stew sounds excellent," I said. "Rayyel could use a spine."

"Is heartless shrew on the menu?" Rai asked without batting an eye.

Does err, that dog shit gold, by any chance?