The Mercy of Gods (The Captive's War #1)

by James S.A. Corey

We did not see the adversary for what he was, and we brought him into our home.

Dafyd listened because he was good at listening. He had a lot of practice. It kept the spotlight off him, people broadly seemed more hungry to be heard than they knew, and usually by the end of it, they found themselves liking him. Which was convenient, even on those occasions when he didn’t find himself liking them back.

“You’re at a point in your career that you should make people uneasy. You’re too fond of being underestimated. It’s a vice. You’re going to have to impress someone someday.”

But Else tucked a lock of auburn hair back behind her ear, and he walked toward her table like he had business there. Small moments, unnoticed at the time, change the fate of empires.

Later, when he stood in the eye of a storm that burned a thousand worlds, he’d remember how it all started with Else Yannin’s hand on his arm and his need to give her a reason to keep it there.

Looked at in a wide enough frame, maybe her problems weren’t so large. They just seemed that way when she held them up against her eyes where they’d block out all the light.

“It’s his pathological move. I get it.” “I don’t know the term.” “It’s the thing people do when they’re working on instinct. When they’re stressed and overwhelmed, there’s something they go to by reflex. Tonner focuses down on something small enough to control. Campar makes jokes. Jessyn withdraws. Everyone has something.”

What you did with a tree branch, we did with you and countless others before you. Why me? is not something the universe ever answers.

“I think some important scientific questions have finally been answered. Alien life exists, and they are assholes.”

A leader must be utterly decisive, especially when giving orders that conflict with the ones from the day before.