The Cruel Prince

Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop.

If I cannot be better than them, I will become so much worse.

What could I become if I stopped worrying about death, about pain, about anything? If I stopped trying to belong? Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear.

So I am to sit here and feed you information,” Cardan says, leaning against a hickory tree. “And you’re to go charm royalty? That seems entirely backward.” I fix him with a look. “I can be charming. I charmed you, didn’t I?” He rolls his eyes. “Do not expect others to share my depraved tastes.

I am going to keep on defying you. I am going to shame you with my defiance. You remind me that I am a mere mortal and you are a prince of Faerie. Well, let me remind you that means you have much to lose and I have nothing. You may win in the end, you may ensorcell me and hurt me and humiliate me, but I will make sure you lose everything I can take from you on the way down. I promise you this is the least of what I can do.

If you hurt me, I wouldn't cry. I would hurt you back.

I have lied and I have betrayed and I have triumphed. If only there was someone to congratulate me.

Because you’re like a story that hasn’t happened yet. Because I want to see what you will do. I want to be part of the unfolding of the tale.

Father, I am what you made me. I’ve become your daughter after all.

Let's have a toast. To the incompetence of our enemies.

Nice things don’t happen in storybooks. Or when they do happen, something bad happens next. Because otherwise the story would be boring, and no one would read it.

That’s what comes of hungering for something; you forget to check if it’s rotten before you gobble it down

I stand in front of my window and imagine myself a fearless knight, imagine myself a witch who hid her heart in her finger and then chopped her finger off.

But kissing Locke never felt the way that kissing Cardan does, like taking a dare to run over knives, like an adrenaline strike of lightning, like the moment when you've swum too far out in the sea and there is no going back, only cold black water closing over your head.

But I will not stand in front of your happiness. I will not even stand in front of misery that you choose for yourself.

He looks like a faerie lover stepped out of a ballad, the kind where no good comes to the girl who runs away with him.

I love my parents' murderer; I suppose I could love anyone.

We don't need to be good. But let's try to be fair.

No matter how careful I am, eventually I’ll make another misstep. I am weak. I am fragile. I am mortal.

Cardan looks at me as though he's never seen me before. He looks at me as though no one has ever spoken to him like this. Maybe no one has.

What they don’t realize is this: Yes, they frighten me, but I have always been scared, since the day I got here. I was raised by the man who murdered my parents, reared in a land of monsters. I live with that fear, let it settle into my bones, and ignore it. If I didn’t pretend not to be scared, I would hide under my owl-down coverlets in Madoc’s estate forever. I would lie there and scream until there was nothing left of me.

There you are," Cardan says as I take my place beside him. "How has the night been going for you? Mine has been full of dull conversation about how my head is going to find itself on a spike.

This is absurd. This is awful. This isn’t how people show loyalty. This is epic, epic bullshit.

He stares at me as though I am a stranger, but I have never felt less like one. For the first time, we are both unmasked.

Desire is an odd thing. As soon as it’s sated, it transmutes. If we receive golden thread, we desire the golden needle.

There is a pleasure in being with them. Taking what we wish, indulging in every terrible thought. There’s safety in being awful.

Before, I never knew how far I would go. Now I believe I have the answer. I will go as far as there is to go. I will go way too far.

I am tired of caring,” I say. “Why should I?” “Because they could kill you!” “They better,” I say to her. “Because anything less than that isn’t going to work.