How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories (The Folk of the Air, #3.5)

by Holly Black

A sharp tongue is no match for a sharp tooth.”

Hate that was so bright and hot that it was the first thing that truly warmed him. Hate that felt so good that he welcomed being consumed by it. Not a heart of stone, but a heart of fire.

“I have many other, even worse, qualities.”

He stalked back to the enormous moth, but it wouldn’t return him to Elfhame until he went to a nearby general store, glamoured leaves into money to buy it an entire six-pack of lager, and then poured the booze into a frothing puddle on the ground for the creature to lap at.

A heart of stone can still be broken.”

But no one chooses a future. You choose a path without being certain where it leads.

Having a heart is terrible, but you need one anyway.

“I am not so arrogant as to have begun my fight with a troll in the middle of the night. And I definitely wouldn’t have managed to talk her to death.”