Queen of Shadows (Throne of Glass, #4)

by Sarah J. Maas

Punish me, torture me, wreck me, but let me help you. Do this small thing for me—and let me lay the world at your feet.”

“If you are allowed to change so greatly in two years, may I not be permitted to have changed as well?”

You do not get to pick and choose which parts of her to love, Dorian had once said to him. He’d been right. So painfully right.

The straw-coated floor crunched beneath their boots, a cool breeze sweeping in from where the roof had been ripped half off thanks to Sorrel’s bull. To keep the wyverns from feeling less caged—and so Abraxos could watch the stars, as he liked to do.

He is the hero we didn't know we needed but wanted

Abraxos sucked in a great breath, tucked his wings in tight, and fell off the side of the post. He liked to do that—just tumble off as though he’d been struck dead. Her wyvern, it seemed, had a wicked sense of humor.

“You mortals have your rabble,” Manon said. “We have the Yellowlegs.”

“You touch Abraxos, and I’ll peel the skin from your bones.”

Same girl, same

“You wrecked the Vaults,” Lysandra said. “It was for Sam, wasn’t it? Because those people—they all worked for Rourke Farran, and were there when …”

“It’s all for Sam, whatever you have planned for Arobynn. Besides, if you betray me, there’s little that can hurt me more than what I’ve already endured.”

“You honestly mean to imply that you’ve been waiting for me this whole time?”

“You loved Sam as much as I loved Wesley.”

“you and I are nothing but wild beasts wearing human skins. Don’t even try to deny it.”

when she opened them, steel gleamed there. “When you shatter the chains of this world and forge the next, remember that art is as vital as food to a kingdom. Without it, a kingdom is nothing, and will be forgotten by time.

wherever you set your throne, no matter how long it takes, I will come to you, and I will bring music and dancing.”

family, murdered Marion, murdered her people. If these were her last moments, then at least she would go down fighting, to the sound of exquisite music.

Either way, he found himself smiling. Death was death.

For Terrasen, for their future, she could do this. She could end this threat here and now. End him, on his birthday—not a day past twenty. She would suffer for it later, grieve later.

gave him a minute, in which the fate of my entire kingdom could have changed forever. I chose the son of my enemy.”

“You swine,” the witch said. “You need the whole mountain to know you’re hungry?” The wyvern huffed into her hands, his giant teeth—oh, gods, some of them were iron—so close to Manon’s arms.

Abraxos’s tail thumped on the ground, the iron spikes in it glinting. A giant, lethal dog. With wings.

The wyvern’s eyes shot to her, as if aware of the pain.

He stared at her; she stared right back. Unyielding, unbreakable. They’d been cut from the same cloth.

Aedion took the bottle of wine and drank from it. “Has anyone ever taught you humility?” “You didn’t learn it, so why should I?”

“Hush. Your hair was so pretty. I was hoping you’d let me braid it one day. I suppose I’ll have to buy a pony instead.” She cocked her head. “When you shift, will your hawk form be plucked, then?”

There it was, the weight that had been slowly crushing her.

“You will make mistakes. You will make decisions, and sometimes you will regret those choices. Sometimes there won’t be a right choice, just the best of several bad options.

He was in such deep, unending shit.

He wished that woman had killed him.

flame that did not leave burns—loosed upon thousands. It would be glorious, even if it was grotesque.

She’d been a ghost for years now, anyway, her heart full of the forgotten dead.

Her midnight eyes were bright, and even with her face splattered in black blood, her smile—relieved, a bit wild with the thrill of the fight, their victory—was … beautiful.

Aelin’s breath caught as she pushed against the grate, and it mercifully gave.

Terrifyingly grateful it opened

And when Lorcan walked right into that den of Valg commanders and the Wyrdhound that had come to retrieve their reports, when the clash of weapons and roar of dying filled her ears, Aelin merely sauntered down the street, whistling to herself.

“You know, I’m really rather tired of being called that. You’d think five centuries would give you enough time to come up with something more creative.” “Come a little closer, and I’ll show you just what five centuries can do.”

“Such a big mouth for someone without her fire tricks.” “Such a big mouth for someone who needs to mind his surroundings.”

“Honestly, Rowan, I don’t know how you put up with him for so many centuries. Five minutes and I’m bored to tears.”

“Did you really lure Lorcan into a sewer with one of those creatures?” “It was such an easy trap that I’m actually disappointed he fell for it.”

You and I are nothing but beasts wearing human skins

moment to sort out one friend from another—the friend she had loved and who had lied to her at every chance, and the friend she had hated and who she had kept secrets from herself … hated, until love and hate had met in the middle, fused by loss.

“Lorcan probably spent the entire fight imagining each of these creatures was you,”

Sam Cortland Beloved

Beloved—not just by her, but by many. Sam. Her Sam.

“I miss you,” she said. “Every day, I miss you. And I wonder what you would have made of all this. Made of me. I think—I think you would have been a wonderful king. I think they would have liked you more than me, actually.”

“I never told you—how I felt. But I loved you, and I think a part of me might always love you. Maybe you were my mate, and I never knew it. Maybe I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering about that. Maybe I’ll see you again in the Afterworld, and then I’ll know for sure. But until then … until then I’ll miss you, and I’ll wish you were here.”

She would not apologize, nor say it was her fault. Because his death wasn’t her fault. And tonight … toni...

She’d come here to remind herself—remind herself why that grave before them existed, and why she had those scars on her back.

She looked back at the gravestone, and at the grass concealing the coffin beneath. “I have no choice but to be ready.”

“You look like—” “A queen?” “The fire-breathing bitch-queen those bastards claim you are.”

“Don’t forget your cloak. You’d feel rather guilty when all those poor mortal women combust at the sight of you.” “I’d say likewise, but I think you’d enjoy seeing men bursting into flames as you strutted by.”

No matter what you hear or see, just keep your fat mouths shut. No psychotic territorial bullshit.”