Crooked Kingdom (Six of Crows, #2)

by Leigh Bardugo

“Sometimes,” said Kaz, “a proper thief doesn’t just take. He leaves something behind.”

“You’re risking a country. We’re risking our lives. Seems a fair trade.”

The gloves held back the waters, kept him from drowning when memories of that night threatened to drag him under. When he pulled them on, it felt like he was arming himself, and they were better than a knife or a gun. Until he met Imogen.

Kaz thought of Imogen’s slow, closed-mouth smile and made a decision. He would conquer this weakness the way he’d conquered everything in his path.

And that was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have.

It’s just another weapon. Its nature depends on who wields it.

But just as surely as life connected everything, so did death. It was that endless, fast-running river. She’d dipped her fingers into its current, held the eddy of its power in her hand. She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.

When the swing was coming at you, you didn’t try to avoid it; you went to meet it.

We learn to hold our heads as if we wear crowns. We learn to wring magic from the ordinary. That was how you survived when you weren’t chosen, when there was no royal blood in your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway.

“There is no shame in meeting a worthy opponent. It means there is more to learn, a welcome reminder to pursue humility.”

We ended up on the streets and then we died. Both of us in our own way. But only one of us was reborn.”

“Suffering is like anything else. Live with it long enough, you learn to like the taste.”

She smiled then, her eyes red, her cheeks scattered with some kind of dust. It was a smile he thought he might die to earn again.

“Do not be afraid. Fear is how they control you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. His breath sounded strange and thready. “All I wanted was to see you once more.

“I promise, Matthias. I’ll take you home.” “Nina,” he said, pressing her hand to his heart. “I am already home.”

“You can only sharpen a blade so far,” Kaz said as he joined them at the front of the church. “In the end, it comes down to the quality of the metal.”

“He doesn’t say goodbye,” Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. “He just lets go.”