Cass Bird Quotes

It's called a citrine. If you, Hollis Brite, were a star, you'd be the sun. If you were a bird, you'd be a canary. And if you were a stone, you'd be a citrine. pg. 223

She’ll need a code name of her own.” Quinn tapped his quill on the table as he read over Mouse’s notes for the tenth time. They were like a flock of gabbling birds, these ladies, following the lead of the one in front. “Starling.” Cass nodded as he opened the door. “Starlings are smart birds.” “I know. Annoying as hell, too.

One headline read: ‘West Ham supporters set light to a yacht.’ Now, if that boat was a yacht, then it probably only needed two paddles to row it. But if the headlines were exaggerated, the events of that night weren’t. Some nasty things happened that night. It was inevitable when you had a thousand young men down for a football match with nowhere to stay and nowhere open. [...] It was well into the wee hours before we at last found somewhere to crash out. We met a bird and bloke who were local, and for some unknown reason they offered us the use of their flat on the seafront. Needless to say, we showed our appreciation of their generosity by guzzling the spirits cabinet dry and trashing the flat. The bloke was so pissed he was half joining in while the bird, who we all thought was a bit odd, was going mental. In fact, she was like a fucking animal. - Jimmy Smith

Black hawk down. Black eagle up.

Stop.” She turned her face away. Slipping out from between him and the wall, Cass walked along a path of stepping-stones toward a bronze fountain at the back of the garden. Beyond the fountain was a wrought-iron fence, and beyond the fence was an alley. She rested one hand on the iron bars, feeling a bit like the caged bird Falco had once accused her of being. He took her hand and led her back to the edge of the fountain, where she sat. Sitting beside her, he pressed his leg against her hip. “What is it?” he asked. “We came out here to talk, remember?” she said. “We can talk later.” He squeezed her hand, his fingers massaging the middle of her palm. Mannaggia. Why did every single touch have to make her want things? “When you’re not dressed like that,” he added.

De Montaigne. He described marriage as much like a cage full of birds, where the unmarried struggle to get in and the married struggle to get out. Do you agree, Signorina?” Cass struggled to swallow a mouthful of the sour ale, then set her goblet down on the warped tabletop and met Paolo’s challenging gaze. “As you know, there is no conversation more boring than one in which everybody agrees,” she said, firing back some of de Montaigne’s exact words. “Personally I have no desire to force my way into the cage of marriage.” Cass took another long drink of ale. It tasted better the second time. Paolo’s dark eyes widened. “The lady also read de Montaigne. Impressive.” Falco squeezed her hand. She cast a glance sideways to see that he was looking at he with a mix of surprise and admiration. She wondered what Agnese would do if she found out Cass was using her tutoring to impress boys at the local taverna. The thought made her laugh out loud. “Well, was it not de Montaigne himself who said, ‘There is no desire more natural than the desire for knowledge’?” Cass drained her goblet and smiled triumphantly. Paolo broke into a grin--the first time Cass had seen him smile. “Learned and lovely,” he said. “I see now why you’ve been spending time with her, Falco. Just because she cannot be your bride doesn’t mean she cannot be your muse.

What are you doing here, anyway?” Cass asked. Luca’s smile vanished. “I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he said. “And your aunt wanted to plan a betrothal ceremony. Didn’t she tell you?” Instantly, Cass’s good mood dissipated. A betrothal ceremony? Once she had undergone the official ritual, there would be no going back on her marriage. She would belong to Luca da Peraga. Like his fur-lined cloak or the feather in his hat, Cass would be just one more pretty thing for Luca to call his own. No more studying. No more adventures. She would become, as Falco said, a caged bird, beating its wings against the bars of its prison. “No, she didn’t tell me,” Cass said hoarsely, trying to push Falco from her mind. His sparkling eyes. The crooked smile. The tiny jagged scar under his right eye. “We can talk about it more tomorrow,” Luca said kindly, perhaps mistaking her dread for nervousness. “I’ll be out running some errands in the morning, but I’ll see you at dinner?” Cass nodded. A pair of servants came for Luca with armfuls of bed linens and towels. Cass fled the library in front of them. She didn’t want to watch Luca settle in to the bedroom next to her. She didn’t want to think about what it meant for the two of them, and for her future.

You look tired. Do you need a break?” “Yes.” Cass sat up on the divan, rolling her head around in a circle. “Can I see?” Falco refilled her glass and then came to sit beside her. “Not yet,” he said, rubbing her neck gently. “Why not?” Closing her eyes, she tilted her head down to make more room for Falco’s hands. Again, something deep inside of her whispered that she should run away while she still could. And again, Cass ignored it. “Because it’s not perfect yet.” Innocent words, but he said them in a way that was soft and full of longing. Cass kept her face down, her eyes closed, afraid of what she’d see if she opened them. Falco brushed her hair back over her shoulders. He traced a finger around the edge of her lips. “But you are,” he breathed, low, right near her ear. And then, slowly, he touched his lips to her cheekbone and left them there. Cass felt torn in two, like the sky split by lightning. One side guilty. One side wanting. She froze, statue-still, as Falco’s lips brushed against her earlobe and then moved down and across her jawbone. His mouth hovered in the air, a parchment’s width away from hers. Eternities came and went. Slowly, Cass tilted her lips to meet his. And then Falco’s mouth was on hers, burning hot, but softer than she had imagined. And Cass felt her whole body tense up and then go weak. Blindly, she reached out for one of his hands, lacing their fingers together. She pressed her lips against him, her soul against him, and she felt truly warm for the first time. Like she’d been living her whole life in a block of ice and had finally escaped into the sun. Falco’s other hand moved up to cradle her face. Cass felt her heart beating against her rib cage like a bird trying to wing free. Their mouths moved against each other, and she couldn’t believe the heat they were creating. She couldn’t believe it was possible to feel the way she did, so completely intertwined with another human being. It felt like they were on a boat, the whole world swaying around them like waves.

The human form, it’s a symphony. Tiny interlocking movements that join together in song.” He slid his hands down over her knuckles until he was gripping the very tips of her fingers. “You play a more delicate tune than I do. Have you never noticed?” Cass stared at her own hand. She tried to visualize the structures beneath her skin--the bones and muscles, the strange ropelike things connecting the two. It was hard to focus. Falco’s touch was so warm. “I’m not in the habit of staring at myself,” she said, pulling away. “It’s vain.” Falco shook his head. “How terrible it must be to be a member of the noble class. So many rules. Such restraint. You must feel like a caged bird, battering its wings against the sides of its golden prison.” Cass didn’t say anything for a second. That was exactly how she felt, and he had put it into words better than she had ever been able to do. She repeated the sentence in her mind, intending to write it in her journal when she returned home. But even though it was true, she didn’t want to admit to Falco that he was right. “I’m no one’s pet,” she insisted. “You’re not?” Falco raised an eyebrow. The way he was looking at her made Cass feel out of breath. He tucked the bit of parchment into the pocket of her cloak. “Keep it,” he said. “You can hang it in your cage.” Then he turned as if to go. “I mean it!” Cass cried out. “I’m not like all the others.” She realized she was squeezing her hands into fists. “Is that so?” Falco turned back toward her, and all of the air went out of Cass’s chest. They were separated by half an inch of space. She was hot all over, as though someone had lit a fire under her skin. Falco stared at her so intensely, she felt she could fall into his eyes, into the swirling mists she saw reflected there. “Yes,” she whispered. His lips quirked into a small smile. “Prove it,” he said.