Rebel Rose Quotes

“The bad things that happen in our lives serve to shape us just as much as the good.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“You must not wait for others to save Aveyon. You need to trust your instincts and become the queen you're capable of being.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“she had fallen in love with his soul long before she had known him in this body, but the eyes were the same" page 345”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“your biggest mistake was believing that things must be broken before they can be fixed" page 335”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“Fear was as much a motivator as hate. Fear made monsters out of men.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“Belle is planning to host a series of salons," said Lio, appearing out of nowhere to fill her silence. It had been his first promise to her, in those wild days right after they broke the curse, when they talked feverishly about their most cherished dreams and whispered their deepest fears to each other. Back then, Belle's only fear had been her own ignorance. She had told him of her wish to travel to Paris and attend a salon herself, perhaps one that counted some of her favorite philosophes and encyclopédistes among its members. He had said her dream was toon small and that she herself should host one.
The Mademoiselle de Vignerot smiled politely. "What will the subject be?"
"Oh, everything," said Belle. Her enthusiasm elicited laughter, but she was entirely serious.
The comte de Chamfort cleared his throat, his lips curling into a sneer. "That is very broad, madame. Surely you have a more specific interest? My parents used to attend the famous Bout-du-Banc literary salon in Paris, but that was a very long time ago."
Belle gave him her best patient smile. "I don't wish to be limited, monsieur. My salons will invite scientists, philosophers, inventors, novelists, really anyone in possession of a good idea."
The comte guffawed. "Why on earth would you do such a thing?"
"To learn from them, monsieur. I would have thought the reason obvious."
Marguerite snorted into her glass. Belle sipped her drink as Lio placed his hand on the small of her back. She didn't know if it was meant to calm her down or encourage her.
"Whatever for?" the comte asked with the menacing air of a man discovering he was the butt of a joke. "Everything that is worth learning is already taught."
"To whom?" Belle felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "Strictly the wealthy sons of wealthier fathers?" Some of Bastien's guests gasped, they themselves being the children of France's aristocracy, but Belle was heartened when she saw Marguerite smile encouragingly. "I believe that education is a right, monsieur, and one that has long been reserved exclusively for the most privileged among us. My salons will reflect the true reality."
"Which is what, madame?" Marguerite prompted eagerly.
Belle's heart rattled in her chest. "That scholarship is the province of any who would pursue it.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“I'm the one who's different."
"A princess, you mean?"
She pinched his arm lightly as the carriage turned onto rue Dauphine. "Not a princess." Belle's refusal to take the title marriage to Lio would have afforded her was a touchy subject between them.
He mercifully let it go. "But certainly not the girl you were then."
She turned her attention to the wallpapered panel of the carriage, tracing the embossed flowers with the tip of her finger, unwilling to let him see her smile falter once more. She didn't know how to explain that she would always be that girl, that no titles or fine clothing would change her. In her bones, she was a poor, provincial peasant who had risen far above her station.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“losing myself to the past, losing myself to the beast again, and losing who I am because of some threat or villain I don't understand" page 143”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“We women are always twisting ourselves into knots for those we love without a care or consideration for how it might affect us.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“And they all lived happily ever after…”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“It was a simple gold diadem inlaid with small rubies that had once belonged to Lio's mother. Belle's husband had offered to have one made for her, but she insisted on wearing Delphine's, knowing it meant a great deal more to him that she would be wearing the same crown his mother once did. Maurice had arrived home from his travels just in time to present her with a piece of gold used as a conductor in one of his old inventions, now braided along the base of the crown. Her father had sacrificed so much to make sure Belle had more opportunities than he did, and the crown meant more to her now that it had a piece of her father in it.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“Belle was different now too, from the poor, provincial girl she had once been to a queen in her own right.
She stood tall in a gown as golden as the sun. It hearkened back to the dress she had worn the night she dined and danced with the Beast, when he had shown her a vision of her father and let her go to him, despite the fact that leaving meant an eternity as a monster. It was hard to understand how much had changed since then, and how far they had come.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“Belle had come a long way from her desire to leave Aveyon behind forever in search of adventure like those she had read about in her books. Now she understood that adventure didn't have to mean chasing endless horizons. Adventure could be gathering brilliant minds like Marguerite and her father and others to her court so they could challenge her. Adventure could mean traveling to every corner of her kingdom and meeting people from all walks of life in order to learn from them. Adventure could be working to make her kingdom a better place for everyone in it, with the man she loved by her side.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“I thought the only threat against us came from the rogue noblemen who are plotting a revolt under our very noses. Not the Aveyonian commoners you've spent weeks assuring us are content, happy even."
Bastien eyed her as though seeing her in a new light. "Threats can take many forms, madame. It would not be prudent in times like these to invite them into your home."
"If we are willing to open our doors to the rich, then we must also be willing to open our doors to the poor. You speak as though wealth precludes someone from committing a crime, and that has not been true in my experience."
"I think I speak for everyone, the king included, when I say you are perhaps not thinking clearly."
"And I speak for myself alone when I say you're wrong. Do you forget that I am a commoner? That I grew up in a poor village with the very people you seek to malign? I do not fear them in the same way I fear a rich man who believes justice is a fluid concept and that innocence can be bought." She let them sit with what she had said for a few moments before continuing. "I called this meeting as a courtesy. This is how I envision the salon, and I believe it will be beneficial for all the people of our kingdom. You still get the prestige-raising, economy-boosting aspects, only now the doors are open for everyone. If you cannot abide by that, then I suggest you remain in your estates for the duration." If she had ruffled the feathers of the advisers before, it was nothing compared to how they viewed her now. "All in favor of the amendment to the salon?" They mutely assented with barely raised hands, but it was enough. In a way, it seemed they almost feared her. No one protested or voiced any concerns, and the meeting ended in near silence. She would take their unease over their disdain. She thought perhaps it was time for men like them to fear what a woman could do.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“Sacré, Belle!" Marguerite had exclaimed upon entering, and though the grandeur of the room had never dulled for Belle, it was a treat to see it through Marguerite's eyes, and only made Belle more certain that opening it to the public was the right decision.
"I know. It's magnificent, isn't it?" Belle replied dreamily.
Marguerite ran her hands along the gilded banisters encircling the spiral staircase. "I've never seen so many books in all my life." She turned back to Belle and gave her a wry grin. "Is it true that your husband simply gave it to you during your courtship?"
A blush crept up her neck. She had thought of her time in the castle as many things, but a courtship was never one of them. "Something like that," she admitted. She wondered if she would ever feel close enough to Marguerite to tell her the truth.
Marguerite let out an appraising whistle. "No wonder you married him."
Belle blushed as she pulled her through the stacks, pointing out favorite books along the way. She ushered Marguerite to her favorite chaise nestled in her favorite alcove.
"This spot is best for a gloomy afternoon," Belle told her, pointing to a red velvet settee next to a small fireplace, framed by a window almost as tall as the room itself. "The patter of raindrops on the glass mixed with the warmth of the fire..."
"It must be heavenly," said Marguerite.
"It is."
Marguerite spun back around, head tilted to the ceiling, before collapsing in a heap on the plush carpet and motioning for Belle to join her on the floor. Belle acquiesced, lying down beside her friend and noting the view was even more remarkable from that new vantage.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“The people of Aveyon need egalitarian reforms before I get around to the library."
Marguerite snapped a book shut and returned it to the shelf. "What could be more egalitarian than access to literature for all people of Aveyon?”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“The stables were dark, but she knew where to find Philippe. She stepped up to his stall and whistled a familiar note to her dear Belgian draft horse. She hadn't had reason to ride him in months. He whinnied excitedly and pressed his velvet-soft coppery nose to her outstretched hand, searching for the treat he knew she'd brought him.
"Are you ready to go on a small adventure with me?" she whispered into his ear while removing the apple from her pocket and holding it to his mouth. He made a noise that could have been an agreement and made quick work of the snack. She saddled him in the dark, working from memory since she couldn't quite see what she was doing. Philippe stood patiently and waited for her to mount him.
Together they left the stables. Philippe seemed to understand the need for secrecy. Belle guided him through the gardens and out to the northernmost edge of the castle grounds, where there was a small breach in the wall no one had gotten around to repair yet.
"Think you can make the jump?" she asked. Philippe grunted as though the question was an insult. Her trotted over and made the jump with ease, earning a gracious scratch around his ears from Belle.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“The happenstance of someone's birth should not determine whether or not they are impoverished. It is up to those of us with power in whatever form to work to make the lives of everyone better, starting with those less fortunate than us”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“My point is that amid all this upheaval, you can stay the same. You can be the constant the kingdom needs you to be." She looked out to the horizon. "The person you are now is the same person who saved our kingdom. Why should you ever want to change into someone else?”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“Yes, and then it will be just as nice to luxuriate in your thousands of books, knowing in your heart that each one has been accounted for, and that even if you lived a hundred lifetimes you'd never be able to read them all."
She looked over to him, her ruse falling away. "I wish to catalog them so we can open the library to all of Aveyon, actually."
He paused to study her. "Truly?"
"Truly." She hated that her plans surprised him, but she hated how much it bothered her even more. "If you'll excuse me, I have to see to some things."
She left him standing there in the courtyard, dumbfounded, and it gave her a small bit of pleasure.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“Of all the luxuries that came with her new life, Belle was certain she would never grow accustomed to the sheer vastness of knowledge available to her.
Her library.
She had plans to seek out a specific book, the one that had been gifted to her after she read it so many times it had imprinted in her mind. It had everything she loved in a book- an unfamiliar, faraway setting, magic spells and sword fights, and characters in disguise. She had brought it from home and added it to the library only a few weeks before, shelving it hastily before they left for Paris. Normally she would wander the stacks aimlessly, taking the time to pause and pull books from the shelves.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“She had been adamant that she would never be Princess Belle, eager to avoid the false trappings that came with a title so flimsy in a principality. But queen of a kingdom in its own right? That was no empty title.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“It had all seemed so simple after they broke the curse, when everything felt like a fairy tale. Back then, Belle would have said that their love would be enough to weather them through any storm, and she still believed it. But she hadn't anticipated that the storms would grow and multiply, or that she would find herself adrift, unsure of what side of the battle line she should stand upon.
A part of her feared that by marrying a prince and living in a castle, she would become someone she didn't recognize, someone like those ignorant courtiers who had access to the best books and educations money could buy but used them to make their worlds smaller.
And then another part of her feared that by resisting the change, she would move further and further away from Lio, and she didn't want that either.
Her heart belonged to Lio, but what about the rest of her?
Where would she be if she hadn't met him, and if the embers of revolution were stoked all the way to Aveyon? Would she be fighting alongside the men and women she had seen in the gardens of the Palais-Royal?”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“You're not the boy they knew; you're a man they don't recognize. Something marks you as separate, and they won't ever understand it."
"Because I was cursed." It wasn't a question, and Belle knew she had to tread carefully.
"It's more than that. The curse forced you to change, but the transformation was yours alone."
"Not just mine." He stepped to her and brought her hands to his chest.
Heat rose to her cheeks, but she leaned into the warmth. Lio tilted her chin up and kissed her, sending a shiver down her spine despite the summer heat. She pulled her hands from his and wrapped them around his neck, twining her fingers in his hair, trying to close any distance between them. Every kiss was like their first- capable of wrecking her and healing her in equal measure. A soft growl escaped his lips. She pulled away and looked up, watching as his blue eyes softened.
"I was in that darkness for ten years before you gave me a reason to seek the light," he whispered.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“Belle was an oddity: a peasant who was polite enough to dine with them without catastrophe. She didn't fit with their preconceived notions of how a peasant should behave, so they treated her like a rarity. It was absurd; Belle herself had grown up with many smart and worldly commoners, and met more than a few ignorant and dim nobles in just one night.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“Her husband had done away with the white paint and wig Bastien had insisted he wear to Versailles, and yet he was still confined to an outfit of his cousin's choosing, and unused to the ruffles and lace of Parisian finery. His discomfort reminded her of the time Lumière had wrangled the Beast into something of a courtly ensemble.
Even rough around the edges, Lio still looked princely standing there among them, shooting her apologetic glances when he could, knowing she was probably tallying all the absurdities she'd been made to endure thus far. He owed her. She had half a mind to demand he present her with another library for her troubles.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“The immense dining room table all but sagged under the weight of the dishes: tureens of beef madrilène, bisque of shellfish, and cold cucumber soup mingled with heaving platters of beef ragout, scallops smothered in puréed chestnuts, salmon en sel, and ramequins of cheese soufflé. All the dishes perspired in the July evening heat under the glow of a thousand candles, but thanks to the duc's priorities, the champagne was pleasantly cool.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“She was heading to the Palais-Royal, armed with the piecemeal knowledge she had collected from travelers through Aveyon who told her Philippe, the duc d'Orléans, had opened the gardens to the public some years before. Belle had heard tell of the exchange of ideas that occurred there, and of the bookshops and cafés tucked into the covered arcades that surrounded the gardens. She had spent long nights imagining herself there, attending salons and taking part in lively debates with a more open-minded crowd than she could find in Aveyon. Each step she took was like walking through both a memory and a dream.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“Back home, she had become something larger than Belle. Whether they knew she broke the curse or not, the people of Aveyon viewed Belle as their savior. Some thought she had rescued them from an inattentive, reclusive prince; far fewer knew she had broken the curse that had been drowning the kingdom for a decade. Everyone wanted her to be their princess, to embrace her new role to the fullest extent.
But she couldn't bring herself to do that, not yet at least.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose

“It was blue like the gown she had discarded, but the fabric was cheap muslin that she covered with a thick white apron tied around her waist. In Paris she knew the style of dress was actually popular. It was called chemise à la reine, named after Queen Antoinette's fondness for all things pastoral. Only, Belle truly had fed chickens and washed laundry in hers. She thumbed the stubborn stain that had never come out, the one that Gaston had given her when he splashed her skirts with mud after his ill-fated proposal.”
― Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose