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“People spoke of love as if it were an arrow. A thing that flew quick, and always found its mark.”
― V.E. Schwab, A Conjuring of Light

“This was the story of a prince who watched over his city as it slept. Who went on foot, for fear of trampling one of the fallen, who wove his way between the bodies of his people.
Some would say he moved in silence, with only the gentle clang of his golden-armored steps echoing like distant bells through the silent street.
Some would say he spoke, that even in the far-off darkness, the sleeping heard him whisper, over and over, "You are not alone.”
― V.E. Schwab, A Conjuring of Light

“This is how change happens. Not with a whisper and a wish like in those tales of yours, but with a well-executed plan—and, yes, a bit of blood, but that’s the way of the world, isn’t it?”
― V.E. Schwab, A Conjuring of Light

“The Prince had grown on her, romanced her, in a way, seduced her with his need, and his desire, his pain, his suffering, his desperation for one person, just one to accept him as he chose to be. And maybe it was brainwashing, and maybe it wasn't. But that wasn't reason, really, to add to his misery. Hadn’t they both been abused? Pushed into it? And taking comfort from one another in captivity was all they had, wasn't it?”
― Peggy Barnett, Lips Like Ice