I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe.
“I am going to keep on defying you. I am going to shame you with my defiance. You remind me that I am a mere mortal and you are a prince of Faerie. Well, let me remind you that means you have much to lose and I have nothing. You may win in the end, you may ensorcell me and hurt me and humiliate me, but I will make sure you lose everything I can take from you on the way down. I promise you this is the least of what I can do.”
If I cannot be better than them, I will become so much worse.
“If you hurt me, I wouldn't cry. I would hurt you back.”
Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop.
In my heart, I yearn to best them.
"What they don’t realize is this: Yes, they frighten me, but I have always been scared, since the day I got here. I was raised by the man who murdered my parents, reared in a land of monsters. I live with that fear, let it settle into my bones, and ignore it. If I didn’t pretend not to be scared, I would hide under my owl-down coverlets in Madoc’s estate forever. I would lie there and scream until there was nothing left of me".
She’s looking around the forest, as though if she can prove it isn’t magic, then nothing else is, either. Which is stupid. All forests are magic.
Il s'avère qu'après avoir embrassé quelqu'un, la possibilité d'un baiser plane en permanence, même si c'était une très mauvaise idée la première fois.
Le prince cruel, page 454.
I don't desire to do as well in the tournament as one of the fey. I want to win. I do not yearn to be their equal.
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