Long Live Evil (Time of Iron #1)

by Sarah Rees Brennan

Being nice was nice. Being nasty got shit done.

“I’m a heartless monster with a strong character and stronger eyeliner game, and I intend to get away with my crimes. What about it? Why should you care about my personal failings?”

“This is our first team meeting. My bedroom is our evil lair, and we’re a nest of vipers. From now on, we’re evil together.”

I am burdened with glorious prophecy! Also a glorious bosom, but that’s not relevant.

Characters turned useless when they were pining.

Ugh - ain't that the truth.

Beneath her hand she felt the rhythmic thunder of his heart. As though he were a real living person. As though she held the drums of war in the hollow of her hand.

“You saw this horse born,” Marius reminded him. “I told you his bloodline could find their way anywhere. You named him.” “That was a joke,” said Eric. Marius didn’t see what was humorous. He’d thought it was a nice name. The Cobra stared at the expanse of the warhorse’s arched neck, up to the rolling eyes. “So this is my noble steed, Google Maps?”

Who can believe the wicked? The wicked could believe in themselves. The world was hard and cruel. It bore down and broke you into a thousand pieces. When nobody believed in you, when even you couldn’t believe, you must arrange your broken pieces into a terrifying new shape. You could believe in the fantastic recreation of yourself.