Nevernight

The books we love, they love us back. And just as we mark our places in the pages, those pages leave their marks on us. I can see it in you, sure as I see it in me. You're a daughter of the words. A girl with a story to tell.

You've got the look of a girl who's no stranger to the page. I can tell. You've got words in your soul.

The brighter the light, the deeper the shadow.

I appear to have misplaced the fucks I give for what you think.

Beauty you're born with, but brains you earn.

Never Flinch.' A cold whisper in her ear. 'Never fear. And never, ever forget.' The girl nodded slowly. Exhaled the hope inside. And she'd watched her father die.

Iron or glass? they'd ask. She was neither. She was steel.

You'll be a rumor. A whisper. The thought that wakes the bastards of this world sweating in the nevernight. The last thing you will ever be, girl, is someone's hero.

The books we love, they love us back. And just as we mark our places in the pages, those pages leave their marks on us.

When all is bood, blood is all.

Your mind will serve you better than any trinket under the suns...It is a weapon...and like any weapon, you need practice to be any good at wielding it.

Forget the girl who had everything. She died when her father did." "But I--" "Nothing is where you start. Own nothing. Know nothing." "But why would I want to do that?" His smile made her smile in return. "Because then you can do anything.

Cock is just another word for 'fool.' But you call someone a cunt, well..." The girl smiled. "You're implying a sense of malice there. An intent. Malevolent and self-aware. Don't think I name Consul Scaeva a cunt to gift him insult. Cunts have brains, Don Tric. Cunts have teeth. Someone calls you a cunt, you take it as a compliment. As a sign that folks believe you're not to be lightly fucked with.

If I were going to name my blade," Mia said thoughtfully, "I'd call it 'Fluffy.

...bravo...' Mister Kindly said,'..if only I had hands to applaud..' Mia smacked her backside. 'I'd settle for lips to kiss my sweet behind. '...I would have to find it first...' Arses are like fine wine, Mister Kindly. Better too little than too much. ' ...a beauty and a philosopher. be still my beating heart...' The not-cat looked down at its translucent chest '...O,wait...

Sometimes weakness is a weapon. If you're smart enough to use it.

Mia looked over the new bruises on Tric's face, shook her head. 'My brave centurion. Riding in on his charger to save his poor damsel? Hold me, brave sir, I fear I shall swoon.

Lay hand upon me again, sir, and I'll feed your jewels to the fucking drakes.

If you can’t hurt the ones who hurt you, sometimes hurting anyone will do. All

It's like these fellows who name their swords 'Skullbane' or 'Souldrinker' or somesuch." Tric tied his saltlocks into a matted knot atop his head. "Tossers, all." "If I were going to name my blade," Mia said thoughtfully, "I'd call it 'Fluffy.'" Tric snorted with laughter. "Fluffy?" "Byss, yes," the girl nodded. "Think of the terror you'd instill. Being bested by a foe wielding a sword called Souldrinker... that you could live with. Imagine the shame of having the piss smacked out of you by a blade called Fluffy.

For a moment, she wasn’t Mia Corvere, daughter of a murdered house, parched with the thirst for revenge. Not a fledgling assassin or a servant of a goddess. Just a girl. And he a boy. Their eyes blind to all but each other. Aalea’s voice echoing in her ears.

Just so you know, if it comes down to cannibalism, you get eaten first.

Mia stayed where she was, distrust plain in her eyes. "I've got tea," Mercurio sighed. "And cake." The girl covered her growling belly with both palms. ". . . What kind of cake?" "The free kind." Mia pouted. Licked her lips and tasted blood. "My favorite." And she took the old man's hand.

She was ten years old, after all. Alone and helpless and afraid. But here is truth, gentlefriends, no matter the number of suns in your sky. At the heart of it, two kinds of people live in this world or any other: those who flee and those who fight. Your kind has many terms for the latter sort. Berserker. Killer instinct. More balls than brains. And it shouldn’t surprise you, knowing what little you know already, that in the face of this thug and his blade, and laden with memory of her father’s execution never flinch never fear instead of wailing or breaking as another ten-year-old might have, young Mia gripped the stiletto she’d fished from the darkness, and slipped it straight up into the puppy-choker’s eye. The

The Light is full of lies, Acolyte. The Suns serve only to blind us.

… You just thrashed a horror of the Whisperwastes with a jar of chili powder?” Mia nodded. “Shame, really. It’s good stuff. I only stole the one jar.” A moment of incredulous silence

It’s quite a thing, to watch a person slip from the potential of life into the finality of death. It’s another thing entirely to be the one who pushed. And for all Mercurio’s teachings, she was still a sixteen-year-old girl who’d just committed her first act of murder. Her

Fuck off,” the man said, without looking up. “And take your trouble with you when you off with the fuck, Miss Noneofyourbusiness.

Though she knew she should probably be frightened at the sight, instead Mia took a deep breath, combed her fingers through her air, and stepped out of the alley, right into a slop pile of what she hoped was mud.* ______ * It was not mud. Alas.