Wicked Saints

We're all monsters, Nadya, some of us just hide it better than others.

Dazzle the monsters, Nadya. You've already charmed the worst of the lot; the rest should be easy.

Oh, is this how it goes? I'm murdered and everyone has orders to kill me on sight? Just to rub it in?

When he stepped past her, a smile flickered at the edges of his lips. There was darkness at the corners, something evil just underneath the surface, sinister. He turned and grinned at her, monstrous but beatific, holding out his hand, darkness gone. Maybe she’d just imagined it. She took his hand.

You could be exactly what these countries need to stop their fighting. Or you could rip them apart at the seams.

He was a nightmare but he was gentle.

Is she powerful enough to take the stars out of the sky?

Monsters are real, and I am their king.

Are we so different, Nadya?” He lifted his hand, fingers tipped with long claws, and pressed his thumb against her lips. “We both long for freedom. For power. For a choice. We both want to see our kingdoms survive.

Don’t be a martyr. We have no use for yet another saint.

Where he was heat, she was ice and winter and cosmic fury.

She would bring this country to its knees.

A boy who is mortal and maybe a little divine.

This monstrous king could be undone by the touch of her lips.

...[A] witch is just a girl who has realized her power is her own.

How does a human girl become something divine and feared by the gods that gave her the power she wields?

But this is who I am. It’s a blessing, not a curse.

Once there was a boy who was shattered into pieces and put back together in the shape of a monster. Once there was a boy who clutched at the remnants of what he had left as it fell through his fingers. Once there was a boy who destroyed what little there was remaining because it wasn't enough.

Here in this profaned place, Nadya found herself reaching for a monster.

She wondered if that was what she had become, the thing that would cause this monster king to stumble away from his throne.

Symbols fell from her lips like glowing glimmers of smoke and every star in the sky winked out.

Blood and blood and bone. Magic and monsters and tragic power.

You are searching for an apology for what I am. I will not provide one.

You'll have a false name too?" "Jakob." "Well, that's certainly easier on the tongue than Malachiasz.

He turned and grinned at her, monstrous but beatific, holding out his hand, darkness gone. [...] She took his hand.