Shadow and Bone (The Shadow and Bone Trilogy, #1)

by Leigh Bardugo

He had seen a woman, barefoot and unflinching in her doorway, face down a row of bayonets. He knew the look of a man defending his home with nothing but a rock in his hand.

So they go together or not at all

For the first time, it occurred to me that the Fold was the one place where the Darkling was helpless, where his powers meant nothing. The Black Heretic’s descendants had suffered for his ambition. Still, I couldn’t help but think that it was Ravka that had been made to pay in blood.

So he may want it gone for more power instead of the greater good

How right he was. I’d wanted so badly to belong somewhere, anywhere. I’d been so eager to please him, so proud to keep his secrets. But I’d never bothered to question what he might really want, what his true motives might be. I’d been too busy imagining myself by his side, the savior of Ravka, most treasured, most desired, like some kind of queen. I’d made it so easy for him.

Love as weapon is a great trope

“I’m sorry it took me so long to see you, Alina. But I see you now.”

That must feel reassuring but honestly a little painful

“Fairness!” he laughed. “Still she talks of fairness. What does fairness have to do with any of this? The people curse my name and pray for you, but you’re the one who was ready to abandon them. I’m the one who will give them power over their enemies. I’m the one who will free them from the tyranny of the King.”

All her vilians sem to do this. Think of themselves as saviors when they are just greedy. And it works

He sounded so sincere, so reasonable, less a creature of relentless ambition than a man who believed he was doing the right thing for his people.

They always wear that mask

This was his soul made flesh, the truth of him laid bare in the blazing sun, shorn of mystery and shadow. This was the truth behind the handsome face and the miraculous powers, the truth that was the dead and empty space between the stars, a wasteland peopled by frightened monsters.

Interesting metaphor

The Darkling looked them over and said very calmly, “Peace on my terms. Or your precious mountains and your saintsforsaken tundra will simply cease to exist.” With crushing certainty, I understood that he meant every word. The ambassadors might hope it was an empty threat, believe that there were limits to his hunger, but they would learn soon enough. The Darkling would not hesitate. He would not grieve. His darkness would consume the world, and he would never waver.

Once more a pure evil villian with a defensable motivation

I gasped as understanding flooded through me, and I felt that invisible grip falter. My power slid back into my hands. Once more, I stood in Baghra’s hut, calling the light for the first time, feeling it rush toward me, taking possession of what was rightfully mine. This was what I had been born for. I would never let anyone separate me from it again.

Not sure this really resonates with me after six of crows

They are orphans again, with no true home but each other and whatever life they can make together on the other side of the sea.

That is a kind of love I can get behind

I blame Gamynne Guillote for fostering my megalomania and encouraging my love of villains,

I can relate