Cyra Quotes

Let's go to the festival," he said. He was too thin, I thought. There were shadows under his cheekbones where flesh should have been, in a face so young. "No Ryzek. Just you and me."
I stared down at his upturned palm. He offered touch to me so freely, without realizing how rare it was. How rare he was, to a person like me.
"Why?" I said.
"What?"
"You've been nice to me recently." I furrowed my brow. "You're being nice to me now. Why? What's in it for you?"
"Growing up here really has warped you, hasn't it?"
"Growing up here," I clarified, "has made me see the truth about people."
He sighed, like he disagreed with me but didn't want to bother to argue. He sighed that way a lot. "We spend a lot of time together, Cyra. Being nice is a matter of survival."
"I'll be recognized. The currentshadows are memorable, even if my face is not."
"You won't have any currentshadows. You'll be with me." He cocked his head to the side. "Or are you really that uncomfortable with touching me?"
It was a challenge. And maybe a manipulation. ~ Veronica Roth

I paused. I was tempted to call Akos a friend, but it seemed too simple for what he had been to me, too small a word. ~ Veronica Roth

One of my correspondents has me convinced that the human race would be saved if the world became one huge nudist colony. I keep thinking how much harder it would be to carry concealed weapons. ~ Cyra McFadden

Embrace the uncertainty. ~ Veronica Roth

We didn't always have a planet," she said. "The currentstream was home, more than a piece of rock. Or our ship. But as a people, we are maybe more closely tied than most to our identity, because we have always had to struggle against disappearing completely. We fight for you, for your belonging, because we fight for our existence. We will surrender the one only when we surrender the other. ~ Veronica Roth

Akos, I can't read Shotet characters."
"Um…neither can I, really." The supply cabinet was organized, all the individually packaged items in neat rows. Alphabetical. He knew a few of them by sight, but not enough.
"You'd think after all that time in Shotet you'd have learned something," Cyra said from her place on the table, slurring the words a little. Her arm flopped to the side, and she pointed. "Silverskin is there. Antiseptic on the left. Make me a painkiller."
"Hey, I learned a few things," he said to her, squeezing her hand before he got to work. "The most challenging lesson was how to deal with you. ~ Veronica Roth

Both of you are going to suffer. If you give in first, Kereseth, you will tell me what you know about the fated chancellor of Thuvhe. And if you give in first, Cyra, you will tell me what you know about the renegades, and their connections to the exile colony." Ryzek glanced at Vas. "Go ahead."
I braced myself for a blow, but it didn't come. Instead, Vas grabbed my wrist, and forced my hand toward Akos. At first I let it happen, sure my touch wouldn't affect him. But then I remembered--Ryzek had said to see if Akos was "weak enough." That meant they had been starving him for the days I had been in the prison; they had weakened his body, and his gift.
I strained against Vas's vice-hand, but I wasn't strong enough. My knuckles brushed Akos's face. The shadows crept toward him, even as I silently begged them not to move. But I was not their master. I never had been. Akos moaned, his own brother holding him in place as he tried to flinch away.
"Excellent. It worked," Ryzek said, coming to his feet. "The chancellor of Thuvhe, Kereseth. Tell me about her."
I pulled my elbow back as hard as I could, twisting and thrashing in Vas's grip. The shadows grew richer and more numerous the more I struggled, like they were mocking me. Vas was strong, and there was nothing I could do to him now; he held me steady with one hand and pushed my palm forward with the other, so it lay flat against Akos's throat.
I could imagine nothing more horrible than this, Ryzek's Scour ~ Veronica Roth

But now you know what I've done," she said, staring at her hand, at his chest, anywhere but his face. "Before, you had only seen me do it to other people, but now you know the kind of pain I have caused people, so many people, just because I was too much of a coward to stand up to him." She scowled, and lifted her hand. "Getting you out was the one good thing I've ever done, and now it's not even worth anything, because here you are again, you…you idiot!"
She clutched at her side, wincing. She was crying again.
Akos touched her face. When he first met her, he thought she was this fearsome thing, this monster he needed to escape. But she had unfurled bit by bit, showing him her wicked humor by waking him with a knife to his throat, talking about herself with unflinching honesty, for better or for worse, and loving--so deeply--every little bit of this galaxy, even the parts she was supposed to hate.
She was not a rusty nail, as she had once told him, or a hot poker, or a blade in Ryzek's hand. She was a hushflower, all power and possibility. Capable of doing good and harm in equal measure.
"It is not the only good thing you've ever done," Akos said, in plain Thuvhesit. It felt like the right language for this moment, the language of his home, which Cyra understood but didn't really speak when he was around, like she was afraid it would hurt his feelings.
"It's worth everything to me, what you did," he said, still in Thuvhesit. "It changes everything. ~ Veronica Roth

Cyra," Malan said, nodding as Vakrez eyed Akos. Akos stood up straighter, lifting his chin. He could still hear Vakrez's relentless voice scolding him for slouching, for dragging his feet, for uttering so much as a curse in Thuvhesit.
"Kereseth," Vakrez said. "You look bigger."
"That's because I actually feed him, unlike your barracks kitchen." Cyra thrust a bright green jumpsuit into Akos's arms that was marked L. When he unfolded it, it looked nearly as wide as it was tall, but no reason to complain, as long as he didn't get water in his boots.
"Right you are," Malan said in his reedy voice.
"You used to eat there without complaining," Vakrez said, elbowing him.
"Only because I was trying to get you to notice me," Malan said. "Notice I haven't been back there since. ~ Veronica Roth

He put his arm across Cisi's shoulders, and caught sight of his marks, turned out toward the light. Maybe they were marks of loss, like Cyra said, but standing there with his family, he realized something else. You could get things back. ~ Veronica Roth

There is an art to Noavek bullshit," Cyra said as she muted the feed. "We're taught it from birth. ~ Veronica Roth

She didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?" Akos demanded.
"Cyra was working with us," Teka said. "During the attack on the sojourn ship, I was supposed to take her out--take our Ryzek's Scourge while announcing his fate on the intercom, see?"
"Don't call her that," Akos said. He felt Isae's eyes on him, and his cheeks went hot.
"Yeah, yeah." Teka waved him off. "Well, she bested me, and she let me go. And then she found me, requested a meeting. She offered to give us whatever we wanted--information, help, whatever--if we did something for her in exchange: get you out of Shotet." Teka looked at Jorek. "That's why she didn't tell him. Because she wanted to get him out, but he wouldn't leave without his brother."
Jorek clicked his tongue.
Those weeks after Ryzek had threatened him, after Cyra tortured Zosita and kept up appearances on Pitha, she had let him think she was just doing whatever Ryzek said. Let Akos believe the worst of her. And all that time she was out working with renegades, giving whatever she could to get him out. It was like she had become someone new and he hadn't even noticed. ~ Veronica Roth

Ryzek will be in a huge crowd of people, many of whom are his most ardent supporters and fiercest soldiers. What kind of 'move' do you suggest we make?"
Cyra replied, "You said it yourself, didn't you? Kill him."
"Oh, right!" Teka smacked the table, obviously annoyed. "Why didn't I think of killing him? How simple!"
Cyra rolled her eyes. "This time you won't have to sneak into his house while he's asleep. This time, I'll challenge him to the arena."
Everybody got quiet again. For different reasons, Akos was sure. Cyra was a good fighter, everybody knew that, but no one knew how good Ryzek was--they hadn't seen him in action. And then there was the matter of getting to a place where Cyra could actually challenge him. And getting him to do it instead of just arresting her.
"Cyra," Akos said.
"He declared nemhalzak--he erased your status, your citizenship," Teka said, talking over him. "He has no reason to honor your challenge."
"Of course he does." Isae was frowning. "He could have gotten rid of her quietly when he learned she was a renegade, but he didn't. He wanted her disgrace, and her death, to be public. That means he's afraid of her, afraid she has power over Shotet. If she challenges hi in front of everyone, he won't be able to back down. He'll look like a coward."
"Cyra," Akos said again, quiet this time.
"Akos," Cyra answered, with just a touch of the gentleness he had seen in the stairwell. "He is no match for me."
The ~ Veronica Roth

Come here, little Cyra, and let me have a look at you," Yma Zetsyvis said. "Not so little anymore, I suppose. How old are you?"
"I've sojourned ten times," I said, using the traditional time reference--marking what I had survived rather than how long I had existed. Then I clarified, "I began early, though--I'll be sixteen seasons in a few days."
"Oh, to be young and think in days!" Yma laughed. "So, still a child, then, tall as you are."
Yma had a gift for elegant insults. Calling me a child was one of her mildest ones, I was sure. ~ Veronica Roth

Jorek bent low, catching Akos's stomach with the tip of the practice knife.
"Not a good place to aim, Kuzar," Akos said. "In a real fight, I'd be wearing armor."
"I go by 'Jorek,' not 'Kuzar.' You've earned armor?"
"Yeah." Akos used his distraction against him, smacking the front of Jorek's throat with the flat of the weapon. Jorek choked, clapping his hands over his neck.
"All right, all right," he gasped, showing a palm. "That answers that question."
Akos backed up to the edge of the arena to put some space between them. "What question? About my armor?"
"No. Damn, that sucked." He massaged his throat. "I came here wondering how good you'd gotten, training with Cyra. My father said you didn't know hand from foot when he first met you."
Akos's anger was slow to come, like water turning to ice, but it had some heft to it, when it did. Like right then.
"Your father--" he stared, but Jorek interrupted.
"Is the worst kind of man, yes. That's what I want to talk to you about. ~ Veronica Roth

My mother took us there once," Cyra was saying. "That's where I learned to swim, in a special suit that protected against the cold. It might have come in handy on the last sojourn."
"Yes, you went to Pitha, didn't you?" Sifa said. "You were there, weren't you, Akos?"
"Yes," he said. "Spent most of my time there on an island of trash. ~ Veronica Roth

You two have spent a lot of time together," his mom said.
"Yes."
"Are you to blame for his survival these past few seasons?"
"No," Cyra said. "Your son survives because of his own will."
His mom smiled. "You should defensive."
"I don't take credit for other people's strength," Cyra said. "Only my own."
His mom's smile got even bigger. "And a little cocky."
"I've been called worse."
The vapor was thick enough. Akos grabbed the hook with the wooden handle that hung next to the stove, and attached it to the kettle. It caught, and locked in place as he poured water in each of the mugs. Isae came forward for one, standing on tiptoe so she could whisper in his ear.
"If it hasn't already, it should be dawning on you right about now that your girl and your mother are very similar people," she said. "I will pause as that irrefutable fact chills you to the core."
Akos eyed her. "Was that humor, Chancellor?"
"On occasion, I have been known to make a humorous remark. ~ Veronica Roth

Maybe now isn't the time to tell you that I'm probably not going to be any good at charming her," she said.
"So don't be charming," he said. "She certainly isn't."
"Careful. You don't know how not-charming I can be." Cyra brought their joined fingers to her mouth, and bit down, lightly. ~ Veronica Roth

The corridor guard was there when he opened the door, looking critical. Jorek was behind him.
"Kereseth," the guard said. "This one says he's here to see you?"
"Yes," Akos said.
"Didn't think you could receive visitors," the guard said with a sneer. "Not your quarters, are they?"
"My name is Jorek Kuzar," Jorek said, leaning hard into his surname. "So. Get out of his face."
The guard looked over Jorek's mechanic uniform, eyebrows raised.
"Go easy on him, Kuzar," Akos said. "He's got the world's most boring job: protecting Cyra Noavek. ~ Veronica Roth

Sometimes she still said things that wounded me. And not because they were lies. ~ Veronica Roth

I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking--"
"Cyra," he said. Then he paused, frowning at me. "Did you just apologize?"
"I do know the words," I replied, scowling back. "I'm not completely without manners."
He laughed. "I know the Essanderae word for 'garbage'; that doesn't mean I sound right saying it."
"Fine, I revoke my apology. ~ Veronica Roth

Jorek was standing just inside the doorway. Staring. His hand hanging off the back of his neck, like always.
"What?" Akos said. He got out a dropper and touched it to the potion.
"Nothing, it's just…this isn't what I expected Cyra Noavek's room to look like," Jorek said.
Akos grunted a little--it wasn't that he'd expected, either--as he squeezed the yellow elixir from the dropper into the vial.
"You really don't sleep in the same bed," Jorek said.
Cheeks hot, Akos scowled at him. "No. Why?"
"Rumors." Jorek shrugged. "I mean, you do live together. Touch each other."
"I help her with her pain," Akos said.
"And you're fated to die for the Noaveks."
"Thanks for the reminder; I'd almost forgotten," Akos snapped. ~ Veronica Roth

I sprinted down the alley, not fast enough to avoid the cold water rolling down my back, with a childlike shriek. I caught his arm by the elbow, and we ran together, through the singing crowd, past swaying elders, men and women dancing too close, irritable off-planet visitors trying to cover up their wares in the market. We splashed through bright blue puddles, soaking our clothes. And we were both, for once, laughing. ~ Veronica Roth

I wish it were O.K. in this country to look one's age, whatever it is. Maturity has a lot going for it, even in terms of esthetics. For example, you no longer get bubblegum stuck in your braces. ~ Cyra McFadden

I don't want to be rude," he said, "but I need to know about Cyra."
Ara folded her hands over her stomach. "What about Miss Noavek?"
"Is she…?" He couldn't quite say the word.
"She is alive."
He closed his eyes, just for a tick letting himself think about her again. She was lively in his memories, fighting in the training room like war was a dance, searching windows into black space like they were paintings. She made ugly things beautiful, somehow, and he would never understand it. But she was alive. ~ Veronica Roth

He had no fragile illusions about my goodness, destined to shatter when he found out the truth. But he accepted me anyway. Care about me anyway, ~ Veronica Roth

The knife point dug into Akos's skin, right over the scar Ryzek had given him.
"Vas," Eijeh said, and he sounded a little terse. Nervous? Akos thought. But it was a foolish hope. "You can't kill him, Ryzek won't allow it. So stop playing at it."
Vas grunted, and took the knife away.
Akos's body ached as it relaxed. "Is there some kind of Shotet holiday today where you visit the people you hate to make them miserable?" He wiped at the cold sweat on the back of his neck. "Well, I'm not celebrating. Leave me alone."
"No, but your presence has been requested to witness the interrogation of a confessed renegade," Vas said. "Along with Cyra's."
"What use would I be at an interrogation?" Akos said.
Vas tilted his head, a smile creeping across his face. "You were initially brought here to bring relief to Cyra on a regular basis. I assume that is the use you will be put to."
"Right," Akos said. "I'm sure that's the reason."
Vas sheathed his knife--he probably knew as well as Akos did that he wouldn't need it to get Akos to do what he said. After all, they were on a ship. In space. ~ Veronica Roth

The clatter of pans stopped when I walked into the kitchens. A smaller selection of our staff worked on the sojourn ship than in Noavek manor, but I recognized some of the faces. And the gifts, too--one of the scrubbers was making the pots float, suds dripping on the backs of his hands, and one of the choppers was doing the task with her eyes closed, the knife strokes clean and even.
Otega had her head in the coldbox. When silence fell, she straightened, and wiped her hands off on her apron.
"Ah, Cyra," she said. "No one makes a room quiet like you."
The other staff stared openly at her for her familiarity, but I only laughed a little. Even when I hadn't seen her in a while--I had surpassed her capacity to teach me last season; now we saw each other only rarely, in passing--she fell back into our old rhythms without trouble.
"It's a unique talent," I replied. ~ Veronica Roth

Cyra ducked back into the bathroom. He watched her lean close to the mirror to poke at a pimple on her chin. Dab water from her forehead and neck. The same thing she always did, only now he noticed--noticed that he knew it, that was; knew her routines, knew her.
And liked her. ~ Veronica Roth

I wore a purple dress--not my mother's finery this time, but something cheap that I didn't mind ruining--and I had painted my face to disguise it, with a thick diagonal stripe that covered all of one eye and most of the other. I had bound my hair back tightly, painting it blue to keep it in place. Without the currentshadows, I wouldn't look like the Cyra Noavek that the city of Voa knew.
Akos was dressed in black and green, but since he wasn't recognizable, he hadn't bothered with any disguise.
When he saw me, he stared. For a long time.
I knew how I looked. My face was not a relief to the eyes, the way the faces of uncomplicated people were; it was a challenge, like the blinding color of the currentstream. How I looked wasn't important, particularly as my appearance was always obscured by the shifting veins of the current. But it was strange to see him notice at all.
"Put your eyes back in your head, Kereseth," I said. "You're embarrassing yourself. ~ Veronica Roth

Remind me," Cyra said as the painkiller kicked in, "to yell at you for coming back."
"Whatever you say," Akos said.
But he was relieved, because there was his Cyra, jagged as a serrated blade, strong as Deadened ice. ~ Veronica Roth

Never thought I would be trying to heal Cyra Noavek," Cisi said. "On a transport vessel full of Shotet, no less." She glanced at him. "I can see why you like her, you know."
"I feel like…" Akos sighed, and sat down at the table next to Cyra's head. "Like I just walked right into my fate without meaning to."
"Well," Cisi said, "if you are destined to serve the Noavek family, I think you could do worse than the woman who was willing to endure all this just to get you home. ~ Veronica Roth

Wow, you weren't kidding," the brother said. "Cyra fucking Noavek is with you."
"How did you know my middle name?" I said. ~ Veronica Roth

Essayists must not only be succinct but have original ideas and, even harder to come by, or to fake, likable voices. Consciously or not, they endeavor to win us over by charm. If an essayist can not only charm but write the unforgettable sentence, one that reveals the heart in a few words, I'm her slave. ~ Cyra McFadden

No one knew how to bear other people's hate like Cyra Noavek. ~ Veronica Roth

What brings you to the manor, Kuzar?" I asked Jorek, before Vas could comment. "Surely it's not visiting Vas. I can't imagine anyone would do that for pleasure."
Jorek looked from Vas glaring at me, to me smiling back, to Akos staring determinedly at his hands, which gripped the edge of the counter. I hadn't noticed, at first, how tense Akos had become the moment Vas appeared. I could see the muscles in his shoulders bunching where his shirt stretched tight across them.
"My father is meeting with the sovereign," Jorek said. "And he thought Vas could talk some sense into me in the meantime."
I laughed. "Did he?"
"Cyra has many qualities that are useful to the sovereign, but 'sense' is not one of them; I would not take her opinion of me too seriously," Vas said.
"While I do love our little chats, Vas," I said, "why don't you just tell me what you want?"
"What are you brewing? A painkiller?" Vas smirked. "I thought groping Kereseth was your painkiller. ~ Veronica Roth

Kereseth, I presume. Cyra didn't say you were so…" She paused.
Cyra's eyebrows popped up like they were on springs. She was leaning against the wall, arms folded, chewing on a lock of hair. Sometimes she stuck it in her mouth without noticing. Then she'd spit it out, with a look of surprise, like it had crept into her mouth on its own.
"…tall," Otega finished. Akos wondered what word she would have chosen, if she felt comfortable being honest.
"Not sure why she would have mentioned that," Akos replied. It was easy to be comfortable around Otega; he slid into it without thinking much about it. "She's tall, too, after all."
"Yes. Quite tall, the lot of you," Otega said, distantly. ~ Veronica Roth

Yeah, well, we're all afraid." I sighed. "The angry more than most, I think. ~ Veronica Roth