The Fragile Threads of Power (Threads of Power, #1)

by V.E. Schwab

She poured herself into the opposite chair as if she too were liquid.

It is descriptions like this that make me love V.E. Svhwab

“Your scars are my favorite part of you,” said the king, running a finger from the molten lines all the way to the brands at his wrists. “I love them all. Do you know why?” “Because you were jealous of my looks?” he quipped. For once, Rhy didn’t laugh. He brought his hand to Alucard’s cheek, and turned his gaze away from the mirror. “Because they brought you back to me.”

The other hosts did, too, carrying her secrets and confidences the way a blackbird carried offerings, unable to tell the difference between crystal and glass.

To go where no royal vessel could, and do what no royal vessel would. To spy. To sack. To sabotage. To plunder, and sink, and fight, and steal. To plunge in like a knife, and disappear again before anyone knew they had been cut, let alone that they were bleeding out.

Caring could drown you, if you let it. But it could also help you float.

“I don’t like it when you look at me like that,” said Alucard. “Like what?” “Like one of your projects. Like something you’d like to take apart.” “I’d put you back when I was done. I do hope it’s your eyes,” she added with a smirk. “They are much easier to study. And such a lovely shade of blue.” “You cannot have my eyes.” “No bother,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll take them when you’re dead.”

“Where’s the crew?” she asked, and he spread his arms, as if to say me, but also, perhaps, to say us. “She is light, and sweet,” he said, patting the hull. “And she gets jealous easily. But you’re small enough, I hope she won’t be cross and try to drown you.”