Victoria Aveyard Quotes

You did this to yourself, you stupid little girl.

We are silver houses of noble and ancient blood, allied with rebels, criminals, servants and thieves. Abilities or not, our ways of life stand in direct opposition. Our goals are not the same. The council chamber is a powder keg. If I'm lucky it will explode. Blow apart any threat of marriage. Destroy the cage they want to put me back in.

Our paths may be horrible, but they're the paths we made for ourselves.

...and who looks at a shadow when then have a flame? Who would ever choose a monster over a god?

You believe you are the masters of the world, but your reign as kings and gods is at an end. Until you recognize us as human, as equal, the fight will be at your door. Not on a battlefield but in your cities. In your streets. In your homes. You don't see us, and so we are everywhere. ... And we will rise up, Red as the dawn.

It's cruel to give hope where none should be. It only turns into disappointment, resentment, rage -- all the things that make this life more difficult than it already is.

You lost your brother. Don't take mine

For some reason, I think of Jon. The seer who told my fate - to rise, and rise alone. I wonder if that fate has already changed, or if this is how I change it.

"I won't be your ending, Maven. And you won't be mine."

Lightning has no mercy- I said once. But lightning is only one part of me.

I swear, I'm going to cut the tongues from the mouths of everyone here. Is no secret sacred?

Wish him a happy birthday for me. And assure him it will be his last. But yours is coming, isn't it? I don't doubt we'll spend it together. Until we meet again, Maven

Together we alternate back and forth, protecting our own retreat. When his flame falls, my lightning rises, and so on. Together, we have a chance. He

Romance. We flinch at the word. There is no such thing between us anymore. Not after what we did to each other, and what was done to us. No matter how much we might want there to be.

Even rats want to get out of the gutter, Miss Barrow.

When she moves, I realize her hair is different too. The gray ends are gone, replaced by a beautiful, familiar purple. I love it.

Maven is very much a haunting presence in 'Glass Sword.' His influence is everywhere, and he dogs Mare and Cal like no other. He's my favorite character to write because he's so complex, but also because he affects everyone else so deeply. He's kind of like the source of gravity. Everyone moves around him and what he's done.

I can't let the mistakes I've made bury me.

There are worse things than pain, Miss Barrow,

You don't know how precarious things are, how close this world is to falling back into ruin.

„Mare?" The radio is in my hand before I can even think to ask for it. „I'm here," I say, locking eyes with him across a canyon. „Is it too late?

I assume he is the one unfortunate enough to be called Ptolemus.

His eyes, bloodred, hold an apology I will never accept.

The smell made it really hard to be friends with you."
"Probably why we stuck together. No one else could handle my stink or your attitude.

You want me to pin my entire operation, the entire revolution on some teenaged love story? I can't believe this.

He is a prince and, worst of all, the queen's son. I didn't want to trust him before this very reason, for the secrets he kept hidden. Or maybe this is what he was hiding all along...his own heart.

Silvers don't mind pain, but we are proud. Pride, dignity, honor; those are things no ability can replace.

Mareena is impressed, but she keeps her emotions in check. She is cold and unfeeling.

You could have been my red queen.

But we all still have the ability to choose, in the end.

Cal: Thief!
mare: WELL OBVIOUSLY

I can't deny how much I want to go back for him.

I told you to hide your heart once. You should have listened.

We will rise up red as the dawn.

I feel something like hands around my throat, threatening to squeeze the life from me. Each word tightens the grip, as if ink alone can strangle me. For a second, I fear I might not breathe again.

I expect him to take my arm, to envelop me in his warmth, but there's nothing but cold dripping off him. He's afraid, I realize.

I walked away from his offer. From him. I was torn apart by another betrayal - Cal's betrayal, but also mine. I love you is a promise we both made, and we both broke. It should mean I choose you above all else. I want you more. I need you always. I cannot live without you. I will do anything to keep our lives from parting.
But he wouldn't. And I won't.

But like my brother, I too have a crutch. Mine is not metal. It is flesh and fire and bronze eyes. If only I could cast him away. If only I was strong enough to let the prince go and do what he would with his vengeance. To die or live as he saw fit. But I need him. And I can't find the strength to let him go.

Cal stares ahead, as if his eyes alone can set the entire world on fire. I think he wants to. That would make this easier.

Fire can destroy, fire can kill, but it can also create. Forest burned in the summer will be green by spring, better and stronger than before. Cal's flame will build and bring roots from the ashes of war.

I was never yours, and you were never mine, Maven. And not because of him, either. I thought you were perfect, I thought you were strong and brave and good. I thought you were better than him."
Better than Cal. Those are words Maven thought no one would ever say. He flinches, and for a second, I can see the boy I used to know. A boy that doesn't exist anymore.

And some will believe. The fools. But others will not. Red and Silver, high and low, some will see the truth.

When I was Mare Barrow of the Stilts, I thought the same way. I wondered what would happen if I survived conscription, and saw what that future held. A friendly marriage to the fish boy with green eyes, children we could love, a poor stilt home. It seemed like a dream back then, an impossibility. And it still is. It always will be. I do not love Kilorn, not the way he wants me to. I never will.

If only no one had to fight at all." He shakes his head.
"It does no good to dream.

Never change, Evangeline." Her smile flashes, quick as a knife. „Of course not. Why change perfection?

I fear being alone more than anything else. So why do I do this? Why do I push away the people I love? What is so very wrong with me?
I don't know.
And I don't know how to make it stop.

I don't like being your chess piece."
"Everyone is someone else's pawn, Mare. whether we know it or not.

Difference is not division.

Our laughter melds together, a sound I recognize from days gone by. In that moment, we're different from who we are now, but the same as we've aways been.

But she did not dwell on such thoughts long. She never did.
This is the way of the world.

And we will rise up, Red as the dawn.

Love is not a word we use. We feel it, we mean it, but we don't say it. It feels so final, a declaration from which there is no easy return. I'm a thief. I know my exits. And I was a prisoner. I hate locked doors. But his eyes are so close, so eager. And it's what I feel. Even though the words terrify me, they are the truth. Didn't I say I would start telling the truth?

I start out giving characters archetypes and parameters. Once I know the basics and have a rudimentary model, it's easier to carve unique curves and edges. It's quite easy to guess how a character is going to react if you know their background, and at a certain point, you realize you understand them personally.

The only person in my head is me.

She looks like hell in a
party dress, her jewelry mangled and
teeth on edge.

He told me once it was cruel to give hope where none should be.

Her golden hair catches the moonlight. For a second, she seems to wear a sparkling crown.

I'm a shadow, and no one remembers shadows. Midnight

Action set pieces are my absolute favorite thing to write. I'm pretty much always in the mood to do them, but music certainly helps the process. I usually brainstorm out the dynamics and choreography of a fight to music beforehand - it gives me the little sparks of imagination when I get to the gaps in my own creativity.

I write, having seen what's happening already in my head. I see it as a movie, and I'm just writing down what's happening in front of me.

Cal's eyes flicker, out to the trees. But he's not looking at the leaves. His gaze is in the past, to something more painful. "She killed my true mother as well. And she'll kill all of us if we let her." The words come out hard and harsh, a rusty blade to saw f lesh. They taste wonderful in my mouth. "Not if I kill her first." For all his talents, Cal is not a violent person. He can kill you in a thousand different ways, lead an army, burn down a village, but he will not enjoy it. So his next words take me by surprise. "When the time comes," he says, staring at me, "we'll flip a coin.

Dimly, I hear Maven yelling somewhere, the prince charging in to save his princess. But I'm not a princess. I'm not the girl who gets saved.

No wonder they mistake this for peace. I want to scream at every Red face I pass. I want to carve the words on my body so everyone has to see. Trap. Lie. Conspiracy.

Etiquette be damned. Those are mine.

Revolution needs a spark," I murmur, repeating what Julian would say in our lessons. "And even sparks burn.

And then Lucas is walking up the incline, to his own death. He doesn't spare a glance for me. Not that I deserve one. He's dying, not just because of what we made him do but for what I am. Like the others, he knew there was something strange about me. And like the others, he will die. When he disappears through the far gate, I have to turn away and stare at the wall. The gunshots are hard to ignore. The crowd roar, pleased by the violent display.
Lucas was only the beginning, the opening act. We are the show.

I didn't ask if you could read it,' he replies, still pleasant. 'Besides, words can lie. See beyond them.

I will not be a red queen

I must freeze my heart to the one person who insists on setting it ablaze.

There is nothing so terrible as a story untold.

They are dead. We are dead. It is over.

Now we honor the dead, heal the wounded and avenge our fallen.

I can only hope she passed the message on, to someone still alive. The others are still out there, and they must be found. They must carry on, because I no longer can.

I'll miss you, little lightning girl.

From now until the end of your days, you must lie. Your life depends on it, little lightning girl.

Tiberias." I've never said his real name before. It doesn't suit him. It doesn't suit us. But that's who he is. "Choose me.

Cal's blood might be silver, but his heart is black as burned skin.

If the Reds see her, a Silver by blood but Red by nature, raised up with us, they can be placated. It's like an old fairy tale, a commoner becoming the princess. She's their champion. They can look to her instead of terrorists." And then, softer, but more important than anything else: "She's a distraction.

usually perfectly curled and braided, has been slicked back into a simple bun. When I see gray at her temples,

I don't like getting involved with other people's business. I don't have time for it. And yet here I am, listening to myself say four dooming words. "Leave everything to me.

At the back of the room, the exiled prince gets to his feet. He holds my gaze, as if his eyes alone could set me on fire. A waste. There is nothing in me left to burn.

The diary ended unfinished, unseen by any who deserved to read it.
Only Elara saw its pages, and the slow unraveling of the woman inside.

She destroyed the book like she destroyed Coriane.
Still she dreamed of nothing.

Cameron, my heart is quite literally in this," he hisses through gritted teeth.
Swooning words. A romantic declaration. I can barely stop my eyes from rolling.
"Save it for when we get her back," I grumble.

He narrows his eyes, and I can see the cogs turning in his mind. Then he snaps entirely. "I told you, I told you not to get in over your head!" He slams a fist down on the table, looking angrier than I've ever seen him before. "And now," he breathes, staring at me with so much sorrow it makes my heart hurt, "now I must watch you drown?

I could set the world on fire, and call it rain.

Who can say where the paths lead, or how the scales may balance in another decade? I suppose I can, but that is my curse. To watch, to see, until the ending of all things. We destroy. We rebuild. We destroy again. It is the constant of our kind. We are all a god's chosen, and we are all a god's cursed.
-Jon

She wasn't enough for me either. Enough to make me change, to pull me back from what I've willingly become. I wonder if Thomas would have been enough.

Glad? You're jealous, plain and simple. You're not used to sharing. And you don't like being useless.

My darkness will save them.

Her grip is strong as she shakes my hand; for once someone isn't afraid I'll break like glass.
"Every happiness to you, Lady Mareena. I can see this one suits you." She jerks her head toward
Maven. "Not like fancy Samos," she adds in a playful whisper. "She'll make a sad queen, and you a
happy princess, mark my words."
"Marked,

You're like Thomas was. You are the only person I care about, the only person who reminds me I am alive. Not empty. And not alone.

For their lives, for their children's lives, they will give up what little freedom they had left.

The colonel looks eager, but Cal could not seem more reluctant. He keeps still, knowing that any twitch might betray his true feelings. The lack of movement is just as damning. "I'll see what I can come up with," he finally forces out.

This is the true division between Silvers and Reds: the color of our blood.

If you die, I'll kill you." He smiles sadly. "Likewise.

They don't know the meaning of danger or fear or pain. It's only their pride that can be truly hurt.

Cal stares at the floor, silent for a long, stoic moment. "I never thought Maven would do that to her," he mutters finally. "She probably didn't either."
Then you're both stupid, my brain screams. How many times doe one wicked boy have to betray you people before you learn?

Cal and I stare after her, then at the walls, then at the floor, then at our feet, afraid to look at each other.

What a difference a day makes.

It would hurt him deeply, wound him forever, if I let him glimpse what little is left of me. That I'm still here, in some forgotten corner, just waiting to be found. I could ruin him in one glance, one echo of the brother he remembers. Or I could free him of me. Make the choice for him. Give my brother one last proof of the love I can no longer feel, even if he knows it.

You wouldn't know hardship if it kicked you in the teeth, and believe me, it does that a lot. So excuse me if I don't feel sorry for either of you.

Not a god's chosen, but a god's cursed. That's what we all are.