Q:
“To being the most fearsome and imposing girls the world has ever seen.” (с)
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Tomorrow will be better. It might be only a foot more than today, but it will be a foot longer that you can run. (c)
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...education and culture were equally important—words could be just as deadly as steel. (c)
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She looked to the open window, to the world beyond. For the first time in a long while, she heard the song of a northern wind, calling her home. And she was not afraid. (c)
This time Celeana meets 'Ansel of Briarcliff, Defender of the Realm', Silent Assassins and is on tour-de-quelque-chose through a bunch of deserts. Asterion horses. Stygian spydersilk. And yeah, Celeana's never kissed.
She learns the true value of friendship and loyalty and mercy in this one.
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The only sound was the wind hissing through the sand. (c)
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And since that night, even during her trip out here, everything had been a haze of rage and sorrow and bone-deep weariness, as if she were dreaming while awake. (c)
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And since that night, even during her trip out here, everything had been a haze of rage and sorrow and bone-deep weariness, as if she were dreaming while awake. (c)
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It was too convenient to be coincidental. (c)
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Adventure and glory aside, anyone who’d sell twenty years of his life for a fortune couldn’t be trusted. (c)
Q:
A reminder of what?”...
“That everything has a price.” (c)
Q:
Celaena had a sudden moment of clarity then, as her hair ripped from her braid and the wind tore at her clothes. Of all the girls in all the world, here she was on a spit of beach in the Red Desert, astride an Asterion horse, racing faster than the wind. Most would never experience this—she would never experience anything like this again. And for that one heartbeat, when there was nothing more to it than that, she tasted bliss so complete that she tipped her head back to the sky and laughed. (c)
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After that, she spent three days dangling from the rafters of the fortress stables with the bats. (c) Talk about going batshit!
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It was almost as intoxicating as the oddity of dancing to no music, to hearing a collective, silent rhythm—to letting the wind and the sighing sand outside the fortress provide the beat and the melody. It was lovely and strange, and as the hours passed, she often wondered if she’d strayed into some dream. (c)
Q:
... Then he gave her one of those shrugs, which she interpreted to mean, If only we didn’t live thousands of miles apart. But can you blame me for trying? (c) This sounds like a severe case of a girl-translatetatitis, when you take simple things, such as cough or a sideways glance or a shrug for 'very important standalone messages'.
Q:
Again and again, the sweep and curve of her arm, the twisting of her torso, even the rhythm of her breathing. Again and again, until she became the asp, until the sun broke over the horizon, bathing them in red light.
Again and again, until there was nothing left but the Master and her as they greeted the new day. (c)
Q:
“When you give your master his letter, also give him this. And tell him that in the Red Desert, we do not abuse our disciples.” (c)