Sarah J. Maas Quotes

Chaol had been right. She'd missed the target by six inches to the left,

Let him live with his Band of Exiles. Let him deal with Tamlin in his own way. Let him figure out where he wants to be. Who he wants to be. The same goes with her.

To listen to what I'd heard - as if I'd already learned everything I needed.

Now that Sam was dead, there wasn't anything left outside of the dungeons worth fighting for, anyway. Not when Adarlan's Assassin was crumbling apart, and her world with her.

Her heart - it had been meant for her heart.
And he had taken that arrow for her.
The killing calm spread through her like hoarfrost. She'd kill them all. Slowly.
They reached the second bridge just as Aedion's barrage of arrows halted, his quiver no doubt emptied. She shoved Rowan onto the planks. "Run," she said.
"No - ".
"Run."
It was a voice that she'd never heard herself use - a queen's voice - that came out, along with the blind yank she made on the blood oath that bound them together.
His eyes flashed with fury, but his body moved as though she'd compelled him. He staggered across the bridge, just as
Aelin whirled, drawing Goldryn and ducking just as the Wing Leader's sword swiped for her head.

Vain until the bitter end.

Memento Mori. Remember that you will die.

Yet no matter what happened tomorrow, or next week, or next year, she was grateful. Grateful to the gods, to fate, to herself for being brave enough to kiss him that night. Grateful for this little bit of time she'd been given with him.

I can't tell if I should be ashamed of wanting to hold you on this day, or grateful that, despite what happened before now, it somehow brought me to you.

...there was not enough time in life to waste on hatred. On feeling it and putting it into the world

Little Lucien," Rhys purred. "Didn't the Lady of the Autumn Court ever tell you that when a woman says no, she means it?

The Mute Master had told her that people dealt with their pain in different ways - that some chose to drown it, some chose to love it, and some chose to let it turn into rage.

Hunt was so bored he honestly thought his brain was going to bleed out his ears.

Aelin, leaning against the half-decayed desk that served as the lone piece of furniture in the room, smirked at him. "I saw you from a distance-once." Galan Ashryver's eyes sparked. "I'm going to assume it was during your former profession and thank you for not killing me.

This had better be important."
"Perhaps if you hadn't been reading all night, you wouldn't be so exhausted," snapped the young man seated across from her.

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But scorned, I become a difficult beast to defeat.

Sea-foam white lace bloomed from the sweeping neckline, washing upon her breast from the powder-green ocean of silk that made up the dress. A red sash covered the waist, forming an inverted peak that separated the bodice from the explosion of skirts beneath. Patterns of clear green beads were embroidered in whorls and vines across the whole of it, and bone-colored stitching stretched along the ribs.

Azriel would likely love Mor until he was a whisper of darkness between the stars.

Wincing, Celaena slumped next to Rowan on the bench, and swore viciously at the pain in her leg, her face, her arms. Swore at the pain in the ass sitting right next to her.

Alone with Rolfe, Celaena raised her sword. "Celaena Sardothien, at your service."
The pirate was still staring at her, his face pale with rage. "How dare you deceive me?" She sketched a bow.
"I did nothing of the sort. I told you I was beautiful.

She'd been in love with him for a while now. Longer than she wanted to admit. She tried not to think about it, whether he felt the same. Those things - those wishes - were at the bottom of a very, very long and bloody priority list. So

Rowan just asked, "Did you have a favorite form?"
Lysandra's grin was nothing short of wicked. "I liked anything with claws and big, big fangs.

Behind her, the Fae warrior observed every flicker of movement. He'd be the deadly one--the one to look out for. It had been fifty years since she'd fought a Fae warrior. Bedded him, then fought him. He'd left the bones of her arm in pieces. She'd just left him in pieces. But he had been young, and arrogant, and barely trained. This male... He might very well be capable of killing at least a few of her Thirteen if she so much as harmed a hair on the queen's head.

You do not get to pick and choose which parts of her to love, Dorian had once said to him. He'd been right. So painfully right. Nesryn

Bryce had ground the block of obsidian salt down at some point - presumably using her fucking food processor. For something she'd dropped ten grand on, Bryce didn't treat it with any particular reverence. She'd chucked it into a kitchen cabinet as if it were a bag of chips.

Only Rhys remained, and I hated him as I clung to him, I hated him with my entire heart - Then

Because she is dead!" She screamed the last word so loudly it burned in her throat. "Because she is dead, and I am left with my worthless life!

I was loosened, a top whirling around and around, and I didn't know who I danced with or what they looked like, only that I had become the music and the fire and the night, and there was nothing that could slow me down.

Don't you ever do anything other than read? said Chaol.

Aelin had known, though. That he was her mate. And she had not pushed it, or demanded he face it, because she loved him, and he knew she'd rather carve out her own heart than cause him pain or distress. His Fireheart. His equal, his friend, his lover. His wife. His mate.

For the first time in a damn long while, Lorcan had no words for what he saw.

And though his face was calm, his shoulders thrown back, I said, I see all of you, Rhys. And there is not one part that I do not love with everything that I am. His hand squeezed mine in answer before he laid my fingers on his arm, raising it enough that we must have painted a rather courtly portrait as we entered the chamber. You bow to no one, was all he replied.

I'm the Captain of the Guard-I'm not exactly a catch for any of them." There was sorrow in his eyes, though it was well concealed.
"Are you mad? You're better than anyone in here.

Of course I like luxury - you think I don't love these gowns and jewels? But in the end ... they're replaceable. I've come to value the people in my life more.

War
war was coming. And they might not all survive it.

And from today onward, I want to never be separated from you. Wherever you go, I go. Even if that means going to hell itself, wherever you are, that's where I want to be. Forever.

Will it every stop?" he mused, more to himself than me as another finger joined the one sliding in and out of me with taunting, indolent strokes. "Wanting you – every hour, every breath.

What's your name?" he asked above the roar of the music.
She leaned close. "My name is Wind," she whispered. "And Rain. And Bone and Dust. My name is a snippet of a half-remembered song."
He chuckled a low, delightful sound. She was drunk and silly, and so full of the glory of being young and alive and in the capital of the world that she could hardly contain herself.
"I have no name," she purred. "I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be."
He grasped her by her wrist, running a thumb along the sensitive sknin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two.

Elide found herself not at all afraid as Lorcan caressed her lips with his own. Not afraid of anything as he did it again, kissing one corner of her mouth, then the other. Such

Mikhail truly liked Ansel-that much was obvious. he always found excuses to touch her, always smiled at her, always looked at her as if she were the only person in the room. Celeana sloshed her wine around in her glass. If she were being honest, sometimes she thought Sam looked at her that way. But then he'd go and say something absurd, or try to undermine her, and she'd chide herself for even thinking about him. Her stomach tightened. What had Arobynn done to him that night? She should have inquired after him. But in the day's after him, she's been so busy, wrapped up in her rage ... She hadn't dared look for him, actually. Because if Arobynn had hurt Sam the way he'd hurt her ... Celeana drained the rest of her wine.

As Cassian drew twin Illyrian blades, the sight of them like home, and said to Eris with lethal calm, "I suggest you drop my lady.

You're a little taller than I'd imagined, but no one's perfect.

I'll make it count, Aelin had promised him. He had bought her time. A wave of black reared up behind the king, sucking the light out of the room. Chaol spread his arms wide as the darkness hit him, shattered him, obliterated him until there was nothing but light - burning blue light, warm and welcoming. Aelin and Dorian had gotten away. It was enough. When the pain came, he was not afraid.

I turned. "I was asking about Jurian, the king, the queens, and the Cauldron, but I'm glad to know I have so many options where our relationship stands. And that you'll do whatever I want. I must have you wrapped completely around my finger."
His eyes danced with feline amusement. "Cruel, beautiful thing.

Rumor has it she was your Champion this fall. Do you wish to deal with this?"
Dorian said smoothly, "You will find, Rolfe, that one does not deal with Celaena Sardothien. One survives her."
...
Aelin and Aelin looked at each other. The one in black grinned up at the newcomer. "Oh, you ARE gorgeous, aren't you?"
...
Aelin and Lysandra fixed the warrior with an unimpressed look that would have sent lesser men running.

The creature took Aelin's face in its hands, and her sword thudded to the ground, forgotten.
Rowan was screaming as the creature pulled her into its arms. As she stopped fighting. As her flames winked out and darkness swallowed her whole.

An unspoken question arose in those green eyes. Aelin?
She ignored the silent inquiry, unable to bear opening that silent channel between them again, and surveyed the powerful lines of his body, the sheer size of him. A gentle wind kissed with ice and lightning brushed against her wall offlame, an echo of his silent inquiry.
Her magic flared in answer, a ripple of power dancing through her.
As if it had found a mirror of itself in the world, as if it had found the countermelody to its own song.
Not once in those illusions or dreams had it done that. Had her own flame leaped in joy at his nearness, his power.
He was here. It was him, and he'd come for her.

Rowan had not possessed an army of his own to give to Aelin. To give to Terrasen. So he had won an army for her.

Together, we stared at our reflection. Lord and Lady Night. "Ready to be wicked?" he purred in my ear. My

Celaena would have thanked her again, but another wave of cramping took over and she leaned forward as the door closed. Her weight gain over the past three and a half months had allowed for her monthly cycles to return after near-starvation in Endovier had made them vanish. Celaena groaned. How was she going to train like this?

You were always too good for here Feyre. Too good for us, too good for everyone.' He squeezed my hand. 'If you ever escape, ever convince them that you've paid the debt, don't return.

They were full of light, of fire and starlight and sunshine. They over-flowed with it as they snapped the final tether on the king's power and cleaved his darkness away, burning it up until it was nothing.

Aelin," said Aedion, dredging up a drawl as best he could, even as the lie choked him, "has her own plans that she'll only tell us about when the time is right.

I didn't want to tumble into that deep dark - how much I wanted to stay here among the clouds and color and light.

Come back to me, he had whispered.
She knew he'd wait. Until he faded into the Afterworld, Rowan would wait for her to return. To come back to him.

The words were casual, but that was panic in his eyes. Not-- not the controlling fear Tamlin had once succumbed to, but...genuine terror of not knowing where I was, i I needed help. Just as I would want to know where he was, if he needed help, if he vanished when our enemies surrounded us.

Even as she said it, she wished that she could take the Thirteen into the skies when the storm hit - to train them in that, too.

it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters.

And she wondered if it were possible to love someone enough to die from it. If it were possible to love someone enough that time and distance and death were of no concern.

Gods, he was brilliant. Cunning and wicked and brilliant.
Even when he beat the hell out of her. Every. Damn. Day.

I want to know how to fight my way out. I don't want to wait on anyone to rescue me.

He himself was a beautiful weapon, forged by centuries of ruthless training and warring.

Please - please just do this for me," Tamlin said, stroking his stallion's thick neck as the beast nickered with impatience. The others had already moved their horses into easy canters, the first of them nearly within the shade of the woods. Tamlin jerked his chin toward the alabaster estate looming behind me. "I'm sure there are things to help with around the house. Or you could paint. Try out that new set I gave for you for Winter Solstice.

Religion neither convinced nor moved him.

Aelin can decide what to tell you." "Such a good dog." Rowan

I was not a pet, not a doll, not an animal.
I was a survivor, and I was strong.
I would not be weak, or helpless again
I would not, could not be broken. Tamed.

Do you know how far the wall is from the mines?" He gave her blank look. She closed her eyes and sighed dramatically. "From my shaft, it was three hundred sixty-three feet. I had someone measure."
"So?" Dorian repeated.
"Captain Westfall, how far do slaves make it from the mines when they try to escape?"
"Three feet," he muttered. "Endovier sentries usually shoot a man down before he's moved three feet."
The Crown Prince's silence was not her desired effect. "You knew it was suicide," he said at last, the amusement gone.
Perhaps it had been a bad idea to bring up the wall.
"Yes."
...
"I never intended to escape.

"As you wish."
"But I'd like to remain your friend."
He put his hands in his pockets. "Always.

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A half-wild beast, Nesta had once called me. It was an effort to not take his hand, to not reach out to him and tell him that I understood.

Fight it. We get to come back.

I didn't think saying good-bye would be so hard. And with everything that's to come
We'll face it together. To whatever end.

Rowan's head was still angled as he asked, "Your mothers were cousins, Prince, but who sired
you?"
Aedion lounged in his chair. "Does it matter?"
"Do you know?" Rowan pressed.
Aedion shrugged. "She never told me - or anyone."
"I'm guessing you have some idea?" Aelin asked.
Rowan said, "He doesn't look familiar to you?"
"He looks like me."
"Yes, but - " He sighed. "You met his father. A few weeks ago. Gavriel

He was aching to learn what Celaena's lips felt like, what her bare skin smelled like, how she'd react to the touch of his fingers along her body.

But I couldn't ... I couldn't stop being around you, and loving you, and wanting you. I still can't stay away.

With each day he felt the barriers melting. He let them melt. Because of her genuine laugh, because he caught her one afternoon sleeping with her face in the middle of a book, because he knew that she would win.

She was not becoming anything different from what she always was and always had the capacity to be. You just finally saw everything. And once you saw that other part of her ... You cannot pick and choose what parts of her to love. Just as you cannot pick which parts of me you accept.

No fair maiden should die alone" he said, putting a hand on hers. "Shall I read to you in your final moments? What story would you like?"
She snatched her hand back. 'How about the story of the idiotic prince who won't leave the assassin alone?"
"Oh! I love that story! It has such a happy ending too- why, the assassin was really feigning her illness in order to get the prince's attention! Who would have guessed it? Such a clever girl. And the bedroom scene is so lovely- it's worth reading through all of their ceaseless banter!

I wish you to become who you ­were born to be. To become queen.

She could die for love of this speed, this surety in her bones. How had she been afraid of this body for so long? Even her soul felt looser. As if it had been locked up and buried and was only now starting to shake free. Not joy, perhaps not ever, but a glimmer of what she had been before grief had decimated her so thoroughly. Rowan

She didn't fear the night, though she found little comfort in its dark hours. It was the time when she slept, the time when she stalked and killed, the time when the stars emerged with glittering beauty and made her feel wonderfully small and insignificant.

Celaena," Chaol said gently. And then she heard the scraping noise as his hand came into view, sliding across the flagstones. His fingertips stopped just at the edge of the white line. "Celaena," he breathed, his voice laced with pain - and hope. This was all she had left - his outstretched hand, and the promise of hope, of something better waiting on the other side of the line.

She was a whirling cloud of death, a queen of shadows, and these men were already carrion.

You can hardly expect us to allow a nineteen-year-old assassin to parade into our kingdom and start yapping orders, regardless of bloodline.

Well, good-bye for now," he said, rolling his neck as if we hadn't been talking about anything important at all. He bowed at the waist, those wings vanishing entirely, and had begun to fade into the nearest shadow when he went rigid.
His eyes locked on mine wide and wild, and his nostrils flared. Shock - pure shock flashed across his features at whatever he saw on my face, and he stumbled back a step. Actually stumbled.
"What is - " I began.
He disappeared - simply disappeared, not a shadow in sight - into the crisp air.

Tamlin isn't your keeper, and you know it."
"I'm his subject, and he is my High Lord - "
"You are no one's subject."
"I will say this once - and only once. You can be a pawn, be someone's reward, and spend the rest of your immortal life bowing and scraping and pretending you're less than him, than Ianthe, than any of us. If you want to pick that road, then fine. A shame, but it's your choice. But I know you – more than you realize, I think – and I don't believe for one damn minute that you're remotely fine with being a pretty trophy for someone who sat on his ass for nearly fifty years then sat on his ass while you were shredded apart.

A heartbeat later, his note said, Try not to moan too loudly when you dream about me. I need my beauty rest. I

I know you two are old and up past your bedtime so ill keep this quick.

But you were never just Celaena, and I think you knew that, deep down, even before everything happened. I understand now.

The Queen of Terrasen was in a fighting pit in the slums of Rifthold.

She didn't know how long they stood on that roof, tangled up in each other, mouths and hands roving until she moaned and dragged him through the greenhouse, down the stairs, and into the carriage waiting outside. And then there was the ride home, where he did things to her neck and ear that made her forget her own name. They managed to straighten themselves out as they reached the castle gates, and kept a respectable distance as they walked back to her room, though every inch of her felt so alive and burning that it was a miracle she made it back to her door without pulling him into a closet.But then they were inside her rooms, and then at her bedroom door, and he paused as she took his hand to lead him in. "Are you sure?"

She lifted a hand to his face, exploring every curve and freckle that had become so impossibly precious to her. She had waited once before - waited with Sam, and then it had been too late. But now, there was no doubt, no shred of fear or uncertainty, as if every moment between her and Chaol had been a step in a dance that had led to this threshold.

"I've never been so sure of anything in my life," she told him. His eyes blazed with hunger that matched her own, and she kissed him again, tugging him into her bedroom. He let her pull him, not breaking the kiss as he kicked the door shut behind them.

You cannot pick and choose what parts of her to love.

And then things would be fine. Then I'd be fine.

His eyes were open when I nestled my head against his arm. Within the shelter of his wing, we watched each other. And I realized I might very well be content to do exactly that forever. I

My friend through many dangers. My lover who had healed my broken and weary soul. My mate who had waited for me against all hope, despite all odds.

I reached up to touch his mask. It was so cold, despite how flushed his skin was just beyond it. My hand shook, and my breathing became shallow as I grazed the skin of his jaw. It was smooth - and hot.
He wet his lips, his breathing as uneven as my own. His fingers contracted against the plane of my lower back, and I let him tug me closer to him - until our bodies were touching, and the warmth of him seeped into me.
I had to tilt my head back to see his face. His mouth was caught somewhere between a smile and a wince.
"What?" I asked, and put a hand on his chest, preparing to shove myself back. But his other hand slipped under my hair, resting at the base of my neck.
"I'm thinking I might kiss you," he said quietly, intently.
"Then do it." I blushed at my own boldness.
But Tamlin only gave that breathy laugh, and leaned in.
His lips brushed mine - testing, soft and warm. He pulled back a little. He was still staring at me, and I stared right back as he kissed me again, harder, but nothing like the way he'd kissed my neck. He withdrew more fully this time and watched me.
"That's it?" I demanded, and he laughed and kissed me fiercely.
My hands went around his neck, pulling him closer, crushing myself against him. His hands roved my back, playing in my hair, grasping my waist, as if he couldn't touch enough of me at once.

He moved to sniff some white-and-yellow flowers.
A nightmare. This was a nightmare. "You can't really like flowers."
Again those dark eyes shifted to her. Blinked once.
I most certainly do, he seemed to say.

He's terrified. Terrified of seeing you in his enemies' hands. And they know it, too - they know all they have to do to own him would be to get ahold of you." "You think I don't know that? But does he honestly expect me to spend the rest of my life in that manor, overseeing servants and wearing pretty clothes?" Lucien watched the ever-young forest. "Isn't that what all human women wish for? A handsome faerie lord to wed and shower them with riches for the rest of their lives?" I gripped the reins of my horse hard enough that she tossed her head. "Good to know you're still a prick, Lucien.

And I didn't think even eternity would be long enough to fix me.

To do right by his city, do right by those he cared about...

If you get the chance, teach it to any female who will take the time to listen.