The Liar's Key (The Red Queen's War, #2)

by Mark Lawrence

Animals are generally good judges of character—they don’t like me—except for horses which, for reasons I’ve never understood, give me their all. Perhaps it’s our shared interest in running away that forms the bond.

Fear is a valuable commodity, it’s common sense compressed into its purest form.

A consequence of boredom is that a man is forced to look either to the future or the past, or sideways into his imagination.

“Every fortune-teller I ever met was a faker. First thing you should do to a soothsayer is poke them in the eye and say, ‘Didn’t see that coming, did you?’”

The word ‘good’ is like the word ‘big.’ Is a rock big? Who knows. Is this particular rock big? Ask the ant, ask the whale, both have different answers, both are right.”

Always kick a man when he’s down, I say. It’s the best chance you’ll get.

I regretted the profanity the moment it left my mouth. Partly because a prince of the realm doesn’t want to be seen lowering himself to gutter talk with commoners but mainly because of the sunlight burning on the edge of the axe fixed across his back in a leather harness I’d recently paid for.