Servant of Earth

Hope was what we made it. I wasn’t going to wait for someone else to create that future for me. I was going to seize it with my own two hands, then carve it into a shape I wanted.

That was the way of some men. Their tongues wagged in an imitation of love while their fists dealt pain. I stroked the dagger’s outline at my thigh, thinking about what it might be like to live in a world where women didn’t have to depend on people they feared for safety.

Kallen’s eyes burned with some intense, unfathomable emotion, but his face was as still as if it had been carved from stone. What did this cold, mysterious faerie feel? I got the sense sometimes that his eyes were openings to a very deep pit, and some terrible beast lurked at the bottom. “Do you want to live?” he asked. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean-“ “It does. This is the world you live in, and if you want to survive long enough to change it, then you have to play by its rules.

Hunger is the most efficient way to lower one’s standards.

That was what love was. Not just romantic love, but any type of love. It was caring so much for another person that you would do anything to see them happy and whole.

Aiden cast me an amused glance. “Did you have fun last night?” I smiled nonchalantly. “Yes. Just stayed up too late drinking.” “You know, I didn’t see you at the servants’ gathering last night. Where were you?” “I went to a smaller party.” A party of two, I thought, and suppressed the urge to giggle. Goodness, I was tired. Aiden raised his eyebrows. “That’s the face of a woman with a secret.” “It was nothing special.” “Darling, I hate to tell you, but that means he didn’t do a very good job.

If you give too much of yourself down here, you risk losing everything. Because no one will ever return that loyalty. You'll give and give and end up hollow... or dead. Remember that.

Grief had countless small traps like this - not just the big ache of missing someone, but the small cuts of memories or wishes. People vanished all at once, but the things you wanted to tell them or do with them or show them didn’t.

I’d been confronted with a dark truth about myself. I enjoyed getting revenge.

People vanished all at once, but the things you wanted to tell them or do with them or show them didn’t.

There was something comforting about carrying a weapon. Women weren’t supposed to unless they were hunting. Was this how men felt? Bold and brave, like no one could hurt them?

Are you looking for a fight?” His voice was so soft I wouldn’t have been able to hear him if I’d been standing only a few feet farther away. “No.” The statement came out breathier than I had intended. “I think you are. The question is, why?” Why, indeed? I didn’t understand myself.

I find the Fae are perpetually surprised by what humans can do. You’d think they’d start learning.

immortality can change many things about someone, but the core stays constant.

A lot of things in life aren’t fair, but all we can do is get through them as best we can and try to make the world better.

I wanted to move like that: like silk and lightening, like elegant death.

Dreams were nothing but air, though, and real change took more than just hope.

I’m afraid the gossips give me powers I don’t possess,” he said dryly. “You are free to think about me whenever—and however—you wish.

It’s interesting,” he replied at last. “That I’m alive?” It was suddenly hard to form words. The way he was staring at me was… I didn’t know what it was. “That you look. That I - “ He bit down on the rest of that sentence, then shook his head. “The danger in looking at the wrong people, Kenna, is that sometimes they want to look back.

There's no reason to spend time with a servant, much less a human." He made a humming noise. "‘Much less’ isn’t any kind of term for you, Kenna.

Kenna,” he said as I stepped into the corridor. I tensed and looked back at him, although I couldn’t see anything in the darkened room. “Yes?” “You smell like smoke.” I flushed at the memory of Drustan’s lips on mine and the fiery taste he’d left in my mouth. “I was near the kitchens.” As I walked away, his voice followed. “Liar.

He cupped my cheek. “You’ve always been honest with me, too,” he whispered. “Don’t stop now.