A Darker Shade of Magic (Shades of Magic, #1)

by V.E. Schwab

For the ones who dream of stranger worlds

Such is the quandary when it comes to magic, that it is not an issue of strength but of balance. For too little power, and we become weak. Too much, and we become something else entirely.

Some thought magic came from the mind, others the soul, or the heart, or the will. But Kell knew it came from the blood. Blood was magic made manifest. There it thrived. And there it poisoned.

They were tools, and in the wrong hands, weapons.

Lila Bard lived by a simple rule: if a thing was worth having, it was worth taking.

Lila Bard knew in her bones that she was meant to be a pirate.

Lila was nineteen. Nineteen, and every one of the years felt carved into her.

A life worth having is a life worth taking.

Lila. A soft name but she used it like a knife, slashing out on the first syllable, the second barely a whisper of metal through air.

His grip wasn’t crushing; if anything, his hold was casual, confident, and Lila had been around cutthroats long enough to know that the ones you truly had to fear were the ones who gripped their guns loosely, like they’d been born holding them.

he might actually die. He didn’t want to die. Rhy would never forgive him if he died.

Barron’s kindness was like a curse, because she knew she had done nothing to deserve it. It wasn’t fair. Barron did not owe her anything. Yet she owed him so much. Too much. It drove her mad.

“Purity without balance is its own corruption.

“You don’t know anything about these worlds,” he said, but the fight was bleeding out of his voice. “Sure I do,” countered Lila cheerfully. “There’s Dull London, Kell London, Creepy London, and Dead London,” she recited, ticking them off on her fingers.

Lol I love Lila so fucking much. ✨knife wives✨ for the win! Between Lila, Inej, and Jude I think I have a type

“Death comes for everyone,” she said simply. “I’m not afraid of dying. But I am afraid of dying here.” She swept her hand over the room, the tavern, the city. “I’d rather die on an adventure than live standing still.”

Kell managed an echo of her smile, and she gasped. “What’s that on your face?” The smile vanished. “What?” “Never mind,” she said, laughing. “It’s gone.”

“I’m not going to die,” she said. “Not till I’ve seen it.” “Seen what?” Her smile widened. “Everything.”

“I’m not a member of the royal family,” he snapped. “I belong to them.” Lila’s forehead crinkled. “What do you mean?” “They own me,” he said, cringing at the words. “I’m a possession. A trinket. So you see, I grew up in the palace, but it is not my home. I was raised by the royals, but they are not my family, not by blood. I have worth to them and so they keep me, but that is not the same as belonging.”

“Love doesn’t keep us from freezing to death, Kell,” she continued, “or starving, or being knifed for the coins in our pocket. Love doesn’t buy us anything, so be glad for what you have and who you have because you may want for things but you need for nothing.”

“Don’t you dare pity me, magic boy,” growled Lila, a knife in her hand.

“Rhy?” Kell ran a hand through his hair. “He’s … charming and spoiled, generous and fickle and hedonistic. He would flirt with a nicely upholstered chair, and he never takes anything seriously.”

“That’s the thing about my brother. He’s headstrong and thinks with every part of his body but his brain most days, but he’s a good prince. He possesses something many lack: empathy.

“You’re very fond of weapons.” Lila stared at him blankly. “Who isn’t?” “And you already have a knife,” he pointed out. “So?” asked Lila, admiring the grip. “No such thing as too many knives.”

“Crime isn’t that complicated,” she said. “People steal because taking something gives them something. If they’re not in it for the money, they’re in it for control. The act of taking, of breaking the rules, makes them feel powerful. They’re in it for the sheer defiance.” She turned away. “Some people steal to stay alive, and some steal to feel alive. Simple as that.”

Battles may be fought from the outside in, but wars are won from the inside out.”

She’d wanted freedom. She’d wanted adventure. And she didn’t think she minded dying for it. She only wished dying didn’t hurt so much.

Rhy laughed silently. “I apologize for anything I might have done. I was not myself.” “I apologize for shooting you in the leg,” said Lila. “I was myself entirely.”