Court Of Ravens Quotes

Neil thought about Renee's bruised knuckles, Dan's fierce spirit, and Allison holding her ground on the court a week after Seth's death. He thought about his mother standing unflinching in the face of his father's violent anger and her ruthlessly leaving bodies in their wake. He felt compelled to say, "Some of the strongest people I've known are women.

You know, I get it. Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you’re worth a damn off the court— yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time. I know it’s not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you’re physically incapable of holding a decent conversation with anyone like every other normal human being can, but I don’t think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit. Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago. So please, please, just shut the fuck up and leave us alone.

His short black hair gleamed like a raven's feathers, off-setting his pale skin and blue eyes so deep they were violet, even in the firelight.

Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven's feathers, offsetting his pale skin and blue eyes so deep they were violet, eevn in the firelight They twinkled with amusent as he beheld me.

At the Foxhole Court "family" was a fantasy invented to make books and Hollywood movies more interesting.

Neil." There was a world of regret in that name, but it was a promise, too. Neil pulled himself back together piece by broken piece and followed Kevin off the Foxhole Court.

Adam didn’t need his father to go to jail. He had merely needed someone outside the situation to look at it and confirm that yes, a crime had been committed. Adam had not invented it, spurred it, deserved it. It said so on the court paperwork. Robert Parrish, guilty. Adam Parrish, free.

Why don't you like girls?" Nicky looked startled by the interruption, but he rallied quickly and made a face. "They're so soft." Neil thought about Renee's bruised knuckles, Dan's fierce spirit, and Allison holding her ground on the court a week after Seth's death. He thought about his mother standing unflinching in the face of his father's violent anger and her ruthlessly leaving bodies in their wake. He felt compelled to say, "Some of the strongest people I've known are women." "What? Oh, no," Nicky hurried to say. "I mean literally soft. Too many curves, see? I feel like my hands would slide right off. It's totally not my thing. I like…" He drew a box with his fingers as he searched for words. "Erik. Erik's perfect. He's a total outdoors junkie, rock climbing and hiking and mountain biking, all that awful bug-infested fresh-air stuff. But oh my god, you should see what it does to his body. He's like this, all hard edges." He drew another box. "He's stronger than I am, and I like that. I feel like I could lean on him all day and he wouldn't break a sweat.

Take what he is giving you and make it your shield. It's hard to kill a man when everyone's eyes are on him.

Kevin was silent for an endless minute, then said, "You should be Court." It was barely a whisper, but it cut Neil to the bone. It was a resentful goodbye to the bright future Kevin had wanted for Neil. Kevin recruited Neil because he believed in Neil's potential. He brought him to the Foxes intending to make a star athlete out of him. Despite his condescending attitude and his dismissals of Neil's best efforts Kevin honestly expected Neil to make the national team after graduation. Now Kevin knew it was all for naught; Neil would be dead by May. "Will you still teach me?" Neil asked. Kevin was quiet again, but not for long this time. "Every night.

For every girl who can love a villain, so long as he’s handsome, hung, and good at groveling.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is an indispensable companion to all those who are keen to make sense of life in an infinitely complex and confusing Universe, for though it cannot hope to be useful or informative on all matters, it does at least make the reassuring claim, that where it is inaccurate it is at least definitively inaccurate. In cases of major discrepancy it's always reality that's got it wrong. This was the gist of the notice. It said "The Guide is definitive. Reality is frequently inaccurate." This has led to some interesting consequences. For instance, when the Editors of the Guide were sued by the families of those who had died as a result of taking the entry on the planet Tralal literally (it said "Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts often make a very good meal for visiting tourists: instead of "Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts often make a very good meal of visiting tourists"), they claimed that the first version of the sentence was the more aesthetically pleasing, summoned a qualified poet to testify under oath that beauty was truth, truth beauty and hoped thereby to prove that the guilty party in this case was Life itself for failing to be either beautiful or true. The judges concurred, and in a moving speech held that Life itself was in contempt of court, and duly confiscated it from all those there present before going off to enjoy a pleasant evening's ultragolf.

They wondered at her bruised and mysterious court: the raven-haired Squaller with her sharp tongue, the Ruined One with her black prayer shawl and hideous scars, the pale scholar who huddled away with his books and strange instruments. These were the sorry remnants of the Second Army—unfit company for a Saint.

I am Jean Moreau, he thought, and then: Who is Jean Moreau when he is not a Raven?

And she arose from her deathbed in a gossamer gown, with eyes the color of starlight and hair as black as the night. And those who were her captors trembled, for the scent of death and madness emanated from her soul, and yet she was not dead. She moved like the spiders that creep in the treetops, and none could look away. Taking her first captor in hand, she fed deep and ravenous. And so it was that Myst, Queen of the Indigo Court, was born from the blood of the dead.

You said you hope that your actions added months to my time in the dungeons, but little dove, I never escaped them. They are with me,

If a wife cannot speak ill of her husband, then what joys are there left for her in marriage?

It took a good man to take care of a woman, but only the best would recognize what she truly needed, even if it meant embracing what he couldn’t provide.

Fly, brother. We’ll meet again among the stars.

The longer you make me look at you, little dove, the harder it is for me to remember what you are. And I fear that, if I look too long… I just might forget who you are.

I will be the night, the darkest patch of sky around you, just to ensure that everyone can see how you sparkle. And once your light starts fading, I will take you into my black embrace, and that is where I will love you beyond death.

You are empty,” I said, my throat working, “and cruel.” “Ah. Yes, now that is true. Would you like to know the greatest secret of fairykind?” When I didn’t answer he continued, “We prefer to pretend otherwise, but truly, we have never been the immortal ones. We may live long enough to see the world change, but we’re never the ones who changed it. When we finally reach the end, we are unloved and alone, and leave nothing behind, not even our name chiseled on a stone slab. And yet—mortals, through their works, their Craft, are remembered forever.” He turned us gracefully through the crowd without missing a step. “Oh, you cannot imagine the power your kind holds over us. How very much we envy you. There is more life in your littlest fingernail than in everyone in my court combined.

I am not gentle. I was once, I think, but not anymore

The only thing he actually did have was the personality of crotch lice.

... and although the Raven’s coaches tried to body the cameraman out of the way someone got a shot of the shuttered look on Riko’s face and the agonized tears still streaking down his cheeks. Jean laughed so hard he felt faint.

I might not be able to bond myself to you, but I want you to know that I’m yours until the end… whenever that might be. I will forever treasure you. I will forever provide for you. I will forever fly with you. I will forever care for you.

There is nothing left of me worth saving. Just promise me you will, should you ever come back and find my body, burn me so my ashes can drift forever on the wind.

If you believe death is the worst I can give you, then clearly, you haven’t experienced much of life.

Malyr arched a brow at the speed of a snail crossing a continent.

Worst of all, in Blue's opinion, was that there was something about his antagonism that made her want to court his favor, to earn his approval. The approval of someone like him, who clearly cared for no one, seemed like it would be worth more.

My love is not gentle, or tender, or easy. But it is real, grown from hate and pain deep inside a chest sullied by shadows. It is cutting and biting, leaving behind scars as unfading as my love for you.” His warm lips scathed my jawline. “And once we are gone from this earth, I will continue to love you among the stars. I will be the night, the darkest patch of sky around you, just to ensure that everyone can see how you sparkle. And once your light starts fading, I will take you into my black embrace, and that is where I will love you beyond death.

I made him a promise." Kevin dragged his stare away from Neil's face to follow Andrew's progress. "He's waiting to see if I can keep it." "I don't understand." Kevin said nothing for so long Neil almost gave up waiting for an answer. Finally he explained, "Andrew on his drugs is useless, but Andrew off his drugs is worse. His high school counselor saw the difference between his junior and senior years and swore this medicine saved his life. A sober Andrew is…" Kevin thought for a moment, trying to remember her exact words, and crooked his fingers at Neil as he quoted, "destructive and joyless. "Andrew has neither purpose nor ambition," Kevin said. "I was the first person who ever looked at Andrew and told him he was worth something. When he comes off these drugs and has nothing else to hold him up I will give him something to build his life around." "He agreed to this?" Neil asked. "But he's fighting you every step of the way. Why?" "When I first said you would be Court, why were you upset with me?" "Because I knew it'd never happen," Neil said, "but I wanted it anyway." Kevin said nothing. Neil waited, then realized he'd answered his own question.

I’m not going to Lanai this summer, am I?” Would never show Galantia where I’d grown up. Would never touch her growing belly. Would never watch her hair turn gray. “Neither am I going to hold their child. Ever.

You enjoy watching him about as much as you enjoyed his shadows playing with your cunt and his knife cutting into your tongue,” Sebian whispered. “Which is pretty fucking deranged, but I’m not one to judge… We’re all a bit broken here.

He could finally reach the stadium door unimpeded, but no one had given him the code for this keypad. Unsteady fingers put in the Raven digits over and over and over. He knew it was wrong. He didn’t know why it wouldn’t work. He couldn’t stop trying.

A spiritual warrior accepts his punishment with the same indifference that he accepts his reward.

What was the worth of a silk gown if it cocooned a withered heart? What was the worth of a life if there was no love in it?

See, there is no love for you here—not from me, not from him. There is no love for you anywhere.

Don’t you dare fucking move those hazel eyes from mine when I make you come on my cock while my shadows feast on your cunt.

If I ever find out who dared to court you, little dove, I shall cut off his balls and feed them to my ravens. And you will watch.

If there's love in this pain, then I want it. I just don't want there to be any pain in this love.

I don’t want to be needed; I want to be wanted.

We’re all a bit broken here.

Because of your father, I am a million shattered pieces, put back together all wrong.

How far would I go to find out? To feel loved? Would I bruise for it? Hurt for it? Bleed for it? Yes.

I refuse to give the perpetrators of my past any control over my life by letting this sully my thoughts, my feelings, any part of my life going forward.

I never said this before, but… thank you for bringing me back to life. Thank you for giving a chance to redeem myself in my own eyes. Even just a little.

Men prefer to keep power to themselves. They make rules that dictate who gets to use it, and how, and why. I broke those rules when I saved you with my magic, and I’ll never regret it.

You’ve met my father?” “Oh, I know him… intimately. There is no cut, no bruise, no broken bone, no humiliation your father spared me.” He sneered, letting my pulse thud loudly in my ears. “Because of your father, I am a million shattered pieces, put back together all wrong. Now get that damn knife away from me before you accidentally hurt yourself. Only I get to hurt you.

Riko hadn't let him be "Neil" at Evermore. Every time Neil answered to it on the court, Riko beat him for it. Neil hadn't had much choice, since the Ravens hadn't known what else to call him, but Riko wanted him to know how much trouble he'd caused the Moriyamas with all of his alibis.

I will be the night, the darkest patch of sky around you,” he mocked, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t heard his unkindness back at the spring. “How many days did it take you to come up with those lines?

But mostly he thought about them as the people he'd spent the evening with, the people he was getting to know almost against his will. They'd never be perfect, but they were going to be all right. They'd come to the Foxhole Court as fractured messes but they were fixing each other one semester at a time.

Don’t act angry with me when you’re actually angry with yourself. Don’t call me a liar just because you don’t like the sound of the truth. You liked it. No need to be embarrassed about it because, sweet thing…” a lap of my tongue at her earlobe, “so did we.

Nicky dug his fingers into Neil's thigh under the table, a silent and desperate reminder to keep his mouth shut. Neil left half-moon marks on the back of Nicky's hand with his fingernails and counted to ten. He only made it to four before Riko opened his mouth again. "What a coward," Riko said with exaggerated disappointment. "Just like his mother." Neil stopped counting. "You know, I get it," Neil said. "Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you're worth a damn off the court—yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time.

Well, don't bother waiting around to take me home." I walk away, ready to end this conversation. That's twice now he's made my heart race. It's unsettling

In the heart, the serpent coils, ever ravenous. In the head, a conclave of chasms holds court. In this realm, there are no heroes, only victims.

When iniquity sits in the judgement seat, good men must take their appeals to a higher court.

And there, right beside her, sat Malyr’s anoa… … preening her damaged feathers.

Ignorance breeds lies, and lies breed wars.

the way you whimper and moan will make fate itself blush.

I didn’t want to beg anyone for anything. But when he’d spoken to me like that… I had never wanted anything more.

My love is not gentle or tender, or easy. It is cutting and biting, leaving behind scars as unfading as my love for you.

Life marks us all in one way or another.” Sebian dunked the cloth into the water. “The only scars truly ugly are usually the ones on the inside, anyway.

I can’t promise you riches or lavish things, but I can promise that we’ll never starve so long as there are chestnut trees around.

I don’t give a shit what I am out there as long as I get to love and care for you when we’re among the people we trust,

You have no kingdom, no crown. If you call this farce a court, then I can only assume that you’re its fool.

As if I was a man capable of caring, saving, protecting. Yeah, that felt good. Better than I deserved.

Life marks us all in one way or another. The only scars truly ugly are usually the ones on the inside, anyway.

Shh… it’s alright, sweetheart.” He slid an arm down the back of my thighs before he lifted me up. “I’ve got you.

It’s not becoming of a lady to be here with me. Alone. Remember? Something to do with… indecent things.

much you want to hate me, it’ll never measure up to the loathing my father clearly harbors for me. You think you rendered me worthless? Don’t flatter yourself, Malyr. I was born worthless.

Lick the blade, slowly, until it cuts into your tongue. Ah-ah… don’t turn your head.” He let one finger slip off the handle, stroking the bloody digit along my lips. “Open those pretty lips for me.

Fuck, I love it when you say my name like that,” he hummed as his pace quickened, letting his moans come closer together, faster, more desperate. “I’m going to make such a mess on your belly, sweetheart.

For instance, when the Editors of the Guide were sued by the families of those who had died as a result of taking the entry on the planet Traal literally (it said “Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts often make a very good meal for visiting tourists” instead of “Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts often make a very good meal of visiting tourists”), they claimed that the first version of the sentence was the more aesthetically pleasing, summoned a qualified poet to testify under oath that beauty was truth, truth beauty and hoped thereby to prove that the guilty party in this case was Life itself for failing to be either beautiful or true. The judges concurred, and in a moving speech held that Life itself was in contempt of court, and duly confiscated it from all those there present before going off to enjoy a pleasant evening’s ultragolf. Zaphod

Be honest with yourself just once, Galantia. You want this. And if Malyr was here right now, chances are that you’d want him, too. But he isn’t. It’s just you and me, and I don’t get off on hurting you. I get off on pleasing you.

I hate her, and they know it. Hate how innocent she was allowed to remain while her father corrupted me nearby. Hate even more how I clearly cannot taint her in the same way without risking her death at the hand of my… capricious shadows.

But like you said before, she doesn’t deserve pleasure from you.” I sharpened my smirk. “Which is fine. I’m better at giving it, anyway. She can drip down the length of my cock and moan my name when she comes apart against it anytime she needs.

he growled, “Hear me, Galantia. No matter where you go, no matter what form you take, I will find you. You cannot outrun me. You cannot outfly me. Every path you tread, be it north, east, south, or west, I will chase after because… you… are… mine.

That kiss was long overdue, and there will be a lot more in the future, if you’ll have me. But just for the record, because I’m not going to risk your doubt again over three fucking words,” he tugged the back of my head, pulling my mouth back to his as he rasped, “I love you.

Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you're worth a damn off the court—yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time." "Neil," Kevin said, low and frantic.

As the flames leapt higher, something inside me crystallized—a chilling, absolute stillness. Reality buckled and distorted, like one’s reflection when standing too close to a mirror. And I was left on the threshold between what had been and what could never be again, suspended in a moment that was too brutal to absorb fully.

in my voyages, when I was a man and commanded other men, I have seen the heavens overcast, the sea rage and foam, the storm arise, and, like a monstrous bird, beating the two horizons with its wings. Then I felt that my vessel was a vain refuge, that trembled and shook before the tempest. Soon the fury of the waves and the sight of the sharp rocks announced the approach of death, and death then terrified me, and I used all my skill and intelligence as a man and a sailor to struggle against the wrath of God. But I did so because I was happy, because I had not courted death, because to be cast upon a bed of rocks and seaweed seemed terrible, because I was unwilling that I, a creature made for the service of God, should serve for food to the gulls and ravens. But now it is different; I have lost all that bound me to life, death smiles and invites me to repose; I die after my own manner, I die exhausted and broken-spirited, as I fall asleep when I have paced three thousand times round my cell.

Gansey couldn’t immediately find his voice, and when he did, he said, “I thought you were staying behind.” “Yeah, me too,” Henry said. “Then I thought, I can’t let Gansey Three wander around in the mysterious pit alone. We have such few old treasures left; it would be so careless to let them get destroyed. Plus, someone had to bring the rest of your court.

You know, I get it," Neil said. "Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you're worth a damn off the court—yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time." "Neil," Kevin said, low and frantic. Neil ignored him. "I know it's not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you're physically incapable of holding a decent conversation with anyone like every other normal human being can, but I don't think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit. Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago. So please, please, just shut the fuck up and leave us alone.

I stared at him for a long time. Malyr was relinquishing his claim on her. He’d let her go, selflessly. He gave her to me, probably thinking I was better for her when, in reality, I’d started to wonder if she would be better off with him. How was that for a mess? “You actually do love her, don’t you?” Loved her so much, he was willing to give her up to ensure her safety and happiness. “None of it was feigned.” He gave a pat on my shoulder, then turned for the door. “None of it.

the day kevin stops playing forever is the day he dies. he has nothing else. he wasn’t raised to have anything else. do you understand? we cannot lose to the ravens this year. kevin won’t survive it.” “we can’t win against them. we’re the worst team in the nation.” “then it’s time to stop being the worst. it’s time to fly.” “you don’t really think we can.” “if you didn’t think you could, what are you doing here? you wouldn’t have signed the contract if you’d already given up on yourself.” - wymack & neil

Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven's feathers, off-setting his pale skin and blue eyes so deep they were violet, even in the firelight. They twinkled with amusement as he beheld me. For a moment, we said nothing. Thank you didn't seem to cover what he'd done for me, but something about the way he stood with absolute stillness, the night seeming to press in closer around him, made me hesitate to speak- made me want to run in the other direction.

My love is not gentle, or tender, or easy. But it is real, grown from hate and pain deep inside a chest sullied by shadows. It is cutting and biting, leaving behind scars as unfading as my love for you." His warm lips scathed my jawline. "And once we are gone from this earth, I will continue to love you among the stars. I will be the night, the darkest patch of sky around you, just to ensure that everyone can see how you sparkle. And once your light starts fading, I will take you into my black embrace, and that is where I will love you beyond death.

Kevin wouldn't really go back," Neil said, disbelieving. "Not after what Riko did." Wymack gave him a pitying look. "Tetsuji never former adopted Kevin. Do you know why? Moriyamas don't believe in outsiders or equals. Tetsuji took Kevin in and took over his training, but he also gave Kevin to Riko - literally. Kevin isn't human to them. He's a project. He's a pet, and it's Riko's name on his leash. The fact he ran away is a miracle. If Tetsuji called tomorrow and told him to come home, Kevin would. He knows what Tetsuji would do to him if he refused. He'd be too afraid to say no." Neil thought he'd be sick. He didn't want to hear anymore of this, he'd already heard to much. He wanted to run until it all started making sense in his head, or at least until the ice left his veins. [...] "What if Coach Moriyama told him to stop playing?" Wymack was quiet for an endless minute, then said, "Kevin only had the strength to leave because Riko destroyed his hand. That was finally one injustice too many. Because of that I'd like to think Kevin would defy Tetsuji, but it's just as likely we'd never see him with a racquet again. But the day Kevin stops playing forever is the day he dies. He has nothing else. He wasn't raised to have anything else. Do you understand? We cannot lose to the Ravens this year. Kevin won't survive it." "We can't win against them," Neil said. "We're the worst team in the nation." "Then it's time to stop being the worst," Wymack said. "It's time to fly." "You don't really think we can," Neil said. "If you didn't think you could, what are you doing here? You wouldn't have signed the contract if you'd already given up on yourself.

Sometimes the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are presented as a hunting expeditions (“As British close in on Basra, Iraqis scurry away”; “Terror hunt snares twenty-five”; and “Net closes around Bin Laden”) with enemy bases as animal nests (“Pakistanis give up on lair of Osama”; “Terror nest in Fallujah is attacked”) from which the prey must be driven out (“Why Bin Laden is so difficult to smoke out”; “America’s new dilemma: how to smoke Bin Laden out from caves”). We need to trap the animal (“Trap may net Taliban chief”; “FBI terror sting nets mosque leaders”) and lock it in a cage (“Even locked in a cage, Saddam poses serious danger”). Sometimes the enemy is a ravening predator (“Chained beast—shackled Saddam dragged to court”), or a monster (“The terrorism monster”; “Of monsters and Muslims”), while at other times he is a pesky rodent (“Americans cleared out rat’s nest in Afghanistan”; “Hussein’s rat hole”), a venomous snake (“The viper awaits”; “Former Arab power is ‘poisonous snake’”), an insect (“Iraqi forces find ‘hornet’s nest’ in Fallujah”; “Operation desert pest”; “Terrorists, like rats and cockroaches, skulk in the dark”), or even a disease organism (“Al Qaeda mutating like a virus”; “Only Muslim leaders can remove spreading cancer of Islamic terrorism”). In any case, they reproduce at an alarming rate (“Iraq breeding suicide killers”; “Continent a breeding ground for radical Islam”).

He remembered an old tale which his father was fond of telling him—the story of Eos Amherawdur (the Emperor Nightingale). Very long ago, the story began, the greatest and the finest court in all the realms of faery was the court of the Emperor Eos, who was above all the kings of the Tylwydd Têg, as the Emperor of Rome is head over all the kings of the earth. So that even Gwyn ap Nudd, whom they now call lord over all the fair folk of the Isle of Britain, was but the man of Eos, and no splendour such as his was ever seen in all the regions of enchantment and faery. Eos had his court in a vast forest, called Wentwood, in the deepest depths of the green-wood between Caerwent and Caermaen, which is also called the City of the Legions; though some men say that we should rather name it the city of the Waterfloods. Here, then, was the Palace of Eos, built of the finest stones after the Roman manner, and within it were the most glorious chambers that eye has ever seen, and there was no end to the number of them, for they could not be counted. For the stones of the palace being immortal, they were at the pleasure of the Emperor. If he had willed, all the hosts of the world could stand in his greatest hall, and, if he had willed, not so much as an ant could enter into it, since it could not be discerned. But on common days they spread the Emperor's banquet in nine great halls, each nine times larger than any that are in the lands of the men of Normandi. And Sir Caw was the seneschal who marshalled the feast; and if you would count those under his command—go, count the drops of water that are in the Uske River. But if you would learn the splendour of this castle it is an easy matter, for Eos hung the walls of it with Dawn and Sunset. He lit it with the sun and moon. There was a well in it called Ocean. And nine churches of twisted boughs were set apart in which Eos might hear Mass; and when his clerks sang before him all the jewels rose shining out of the earth, and all the stars bent shining down from heaven, so enchanting was the melody. Then was great bliss in all the regions of the fair folk. But Eos was grieved because mortal ears could not hear nor comprehend the enchantment of their song. What, then, did he do? Nothing less than this. He divested himself of all his glories and of his kingdom, and transformed himself into the shape of a little brown bird, and went flying about the woods, desirous of teaching men the sweetness of the faery melody. And all the other birds said: "This is a contemptible stranger." The eagle found him not even worthy to be a prey; the raven and the magpie called him simpleton; the pheasant asked where he had got that ugly livery; the lark wondered why he hid himself in the darkness of the wood; the peacock would not suffer his name to be uttered. In short never was anyone so despised as was Eos by all the chorus of the birds. But wise men heard that song from the faery regions and listened all night beneath the bough, and these were the first who were bards in the Isle of Britain.

This has led to some interesting consequences. For instance, when the Editors of the Guide were sued by the families of those who had died as a result of taking the entry on the planet Traal literally (it said “Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts often make a very good meal for visiting tourists” instead of “Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts often make a very good meal of visiting tourists”), they claimed that the first version of the sentence was the more aesthetically pleasing, summoned a qualified poet to testify under oath that beauty was truth, truth beauty and hoped thereby to prove that the guilty party in this case was Life itself for failing to be either beautiful or true. The judges concurred, and in a moving speech held that Life itself was in contempt of court, and duly confiscated it from all those there present before going off to enjoy a pleasant evening’s ultragolf.

Most of the mortgaged farmers. Most of the white-collar workers who had been unemployed these three years and four and five. Most of the people on relief rolls who wanted more relief. Most of the suburbanites who could not meet the installment payments on the electric washing machine. Such large sections of the American Legion as believed that only Senator Windrip would secure for them, and perhaps increase, the bonus. Such popular Myrtle Boulevard or Elm Avenue preachers as, spurred by the examples of Bishop Prang and Father Coughlin, believed they could get useful publicity out of supporting a slightly queer program that promised prosperity without anyone's having to work for it. The remnants of the Kuklux Klan, and such leaders of the American Federation of Labor as felt they had been inadequately courted and bepromised by the old-line politicians, and the non-unionized common laborers who felt they had been inadequately courted by the same A.F. of L. Back-street and over-the-garage lawyers who had never yet wangled governmental jobs. The Lost Legion of the Anti-Saloon League—since it was known that, though he drank a lot, Senator Windrip also praised teetotalism a lot, while his rival, Walt Trowbridge, though he drank but little, said nothing at all in support of the Messiahs of Prohibition. These messiahs had not found professional morality profitable of late, with the Rockefellers and Wanamakers no longer praying with them nor paying. Besides these necessitous petitioners, a goodish number of burghers who, while they were millionaires, yet maintained that their prosperity had been sorely checked by the fiendishness of the bankers in limiting their credit. These were the supporters who looked to Berzelius Windrip to play the divine raven and feed them handsomely when he should become President, and from such came most of the fervid elocutionists who campaigned for him through September and October.

This was the gist of the notice. It said, ‘The Guide is definitive. Reality is frequently inaccurate.’ This has led to some interesting consequences. For instance, when the Editors of the Guide were sued by the families of those who had died as a result of taking the entry on the planet Traal literally (it said ‘Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts often make a very good meal for visiting tourists’ instead of ‘Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts often make a very good meal of visiting tourists’) they claimed that the first version of the sentence was the more aesthetically pleasing, summoned a qualified poet to testify under oath that beauty was truth, truth beauty and hoped thereby to prove that the guilty party in this case was Life itself for failing to be either beautiful or true. The judges concurred, and in a moving speech held that Life itself was in contempt of court, and duly confiscated it from all those there present before going off to enjoy a pleasant evening’s ultragolf.

There was nothing in Nesta's head but screaming. Nothing in her heart but love and hatred and fury as she let go of everything inside her and the entire world exploded. The baying of her magic was a beast with no name. Avalanches cascaded down the cliffs in seas of glittering white. Trees bent and ruptured in the wake of the power that shattered from her. Distant seas drew back from their shores, then raced in waves toward them again. Glasses shook and shattered in Velaris, books tumbled off the shelves in Helion's thousand libraries, and the remnants of a run-down cottage in the human lands crumbled into a pile of rubble. But all Nesta saw was Briallyn. All she saw was the slack-jawed crone as Nesta leaped upon her, throwing her frail body to the rocky ground. All she knew was screaming as she clutched Briallyn's face, the Crown glowing blindingly white, and roared her fury to the mountains, to the stars, to the dark places between them. Gnarled hands turned young. A lined face became beautiful and lovely. White hair darkened to raven black. But Nesta bellowed and bellowed, letting her magic rage, unleashing every ember. Erasing the queen beneath her from existence. The young hands turned to ash. The pretty face dissolved into nothing. The dark hair withered into dust. Until all that was left of the queen was the Crown on the ground.

In that moment, I felt Puck truly die, as Robin Goodfellow of the woods rose up and took his place. I smiled broadly as I turned to face the owner of the voice. Ash. Ice-boy. Son of Mab. Former prince of the Unseelie Court. Lots of names, but they all belonged to my greatest friend, and greatest rival, in all of Faery. He swept through the doorway in his long black coat, icy blade glittering blue at his side. Like his broody kid, he was dressed in stark black, from his shirt to his pants to his boots, but his dark hair and silver eyes gave him a dangerous edge that even Keirran could not match. I saw Coaleater take a step back and Nyx staring at him with a mix of curiosity and wary awe. I snorted under my breath. Ice-boy did have that effect on pretty much everyone. After the kings and queens, he was one of the strongest faeries in the entire Nevernever, and he had that presence that turned people into slack-jawed zombies for a moment of two. Except me. I was pretty much immune to the ice-boy effect. In fact, I'd made it my personal vendetta to get under his icy cold skin as much as possible, just to remind him that his natural awe didn't work on everyone. "Well, look who decided to join the party," I drawled as Ash strode to Meghan's side. Anger and resentment still simmered, but I tamped them down. Now was not the time for a Goodfellow prank, not in the middle of the Iron Palace, surrounded by Iron Knights, with the Iron Queen in the very same room. The best laid pranks always took a little time. "Always appearing at the most dramatic moment, ice-boy. Tell me, were you just lurking outside the door waiting for the perfect setup?

Let’s take the threshold idea one step further. If intelligence matters only up to a point, then past that point, other things—things that have nothing to do with intelligence—must start to matter more. It’s like basketball again: once someone is tall enough, then we start to care about speed and court sense and agility and ball-handling skills and shooting touch. So, what might some of those other things be? Well, suppose that instead of measuring your IQ, I gave you a totally different kind of test. Write down as many different uses that you can think of for the following objects: a brick a blanket This is an example of what’s called a “divergence test” (as opposed to a test like the Raven’s, which asks you to sort through a list of possibilities and converge on the right answer). It requires you to use your imagination and take your mind in as many different directions as possible. With a divergence test, obviously there isn’t a single right answer. What the test giver is looking for are the number and the uniqueness of your responses. And what the test is measuring isn’t analytical intelligence but something profoundly different—something much closer to creativity. Divergence tests are every bit as challenging as convergence tests, and if you don’t believe that, I encourage you to pause and try the brick-and-blanket test right now. Here, for example, are answers to the “uses of objects” test collected by Liam Hudson from a student named Poole at a top British high school: (Brick). To use in smash-and-grab raids. To help hold a house together. To use in a game of Russian roulette if you want to keep fit at the same time (bricks at ten paces, turn and throw—no evasive action allowed). To hold the eiderdown on a bed tie a brick at each corner. As a breaker of empty Coca-Cola bottles. (Blanket). To use on a bed. As a cover for illicit sex in the woods. As a tent. To make smoke signals with. As a sail for a boat, cart or sled. As a substitute for a towel. As a target for shooting practice for short-sighted people. As a thing to catch people jumping out of burning skyscrapers.

I was hunting in the forest when I was visited by a fae. She told me I was to assist the copper-haired gold-giver in whatever way was needed. Then I found myself here. I assume you to be the copper-haired gold-giver?

Stone screamed beneath twin sets of talons. “But the Cauldron … Oh, it knew that something had been taken from it. Not sentient, but … it knew. It was furious. And when that young queen went in …” The Ravens laughed. Laughed as the slope leveled out and we found ourselves at the bottom of the library. “Oh, it gave her immortality. It made her Fae. But since something had been taken from it … the Cauldron took what she valued most. Her youth.” They sniggered again. “A young woman went in … but a withered crone came out.

my ravenous hunger was definitely not worth the risk of being enslaved to him in mind and soul.

I want her gone. I need her gone.
 The threat of hoping, of suspecting that her wanting to remain in Faerie has something to do with me and not my brother will surely end me.
 “Do you promise to behave? To act as Carys would act, which means to act as I tell you to?” I can see she means it, but it distracts me from blurting out the real reason I want her to leave.
 “I promise.”
 Her smile obliterates my heart and dissolves any self-preservation I have left.

Elain only stared at him for a long moment. And any lucidity faded away as she shook her head, blinking twice, and said to Nesta, “Twin ravens are coming, one white and one black.

He thought the Prince was trying to turn me into a shadow-spinner.

A face moved into view. Not the Starved One I usually saw. It was a woman, face pale and haggard. “My son.” I gasped at the words. Never had I heard words before. “If they find out what you really are, they will end you.” A male voice answered, distorted and grief-stricken. “I have no magic without you. Please. Don’t leave me.” “My death will give you enough for five years. But you must find the mist-staff by your thirtieth birthday.” “No! No, mother, you can’t!” The woman’s face faded from view and then eyes shone out of the patchy gloom left behind.

I announce her as bound to me,

Your Seven are leal men and valiant, but they are men, and there are places men cannot go.” The king could not disagree. A raven flew to Duskendale that very night, commanding the new Lord Darklyn to send to court his bastard half-sister, Jonquil Darke, who had thrilled the smallfolk during the War for the White Cloaks as the mystery knight known as the Serpent in Scarlet. Still in scarlet, she arrived at King’s Landing a few days later, and gladly accepted appointment as the queen’s own sworn shield. In time, she would be known about the realm as the Scarlet Shadow, so closely did she guard her lady.

What would it feel like to be loved with such intensity? Such unequivocal fortitude, not even death could impose conditions?

Nathaniel was different; he always would be. He wasn’t a Raven, but he was, same as Jean. He was Jean’s misplaced forever partner, an unfulfilled promise Jean had stopped believing in years ago.

for me to remember what you are. And I fear that, if I look too long… I just might forget who you are.

It smelled like shit, urine, and unwashed bodies. And I loved it!

His eyes flashed again, this time I was sure with anger. “You are impertinent. All know of my glorious father.” “And your crazy fucking mother.” His staff banged on the bottom of the boat, and I flinched. “She is not my mother. The Queen of the

What would it feel like to be loved with such intensity? Such unequivocal fortitude that not even death could impose conditions? I wanted to experience such a love so badly…

Love, you’re too old for a nursemaid. Time to grow up.” She winked at me. Then she stabbed Risa in the neck.

But most of all, I cried for myself.

Had I been born a boy, Father would expect me to be loyal, brave, and strong. Surely, I could manage all that without having a wrinkly organ hanging from between my legs.

Dorian Havilliard smiled at her. It was a polished smile, and reeked of court-trained charm. Sprawled across the throne, he had his chin propped by a hand, his golden crown glinting in the soft light. On his black doublet, an emblazoned gold rendering of the royal wyvern occupied the entirety of the chest. His red cloak fell gracefully around him and his throne. Yet there was something in his eyes, strikingly blue—the color of the waters of the southern countries—and the way they contrasted with his raven-black hair that made her pause. He was achingly handsome, and couldn’t have been older than twenty.

We come from different worlds,” I said, “but each has so much to teach the other. There will be moments of dissonance, when people struggle to understand each other’s ways, but once we get past our misconceptions, imagine the reward. “The dancers will perform in the market of Wyvern’s Court; they will be beside avian poets, singers, philosophers and storytellers or we cannot hope to succeed. Merchants will haggle prices and barter goods as they have in both our markets throughout history. Scholars will work to impart their valuable knowledge to their students. Artists will create beauty. And our children will grow up together, playing the same games, taught by the same teachers, living side by side until as adults, I pray, they laugh at the petty arguments we had in this nest while we designed their world.” “And ravens will dance, and serpents will fight for the lives of falcons.

And he will be as handsome as the dawn and wear red and he will keep ravens of his own. And your beautiful bird will meet his mate as well, and the two of them will be kept as official court ravens and fed all the best bits from the kitchen.

Tristan sighed and uncrossed his arms. Looking over his shoulder at Tristan, Gabriel said, “Do you want to try and explain this to her?” Tristan slanted his eyes at Gabriel. “Now, why would I want to do that when you’re doing such a fantastic job all on your own?” “Shut up.” Gabriel turned back to Scarlet. “Anyway…we were engaged—” “And then you died,” Tristan interjected, in a matter-of-fact way. Scarlet’s eyes shot to Tristan. Gabriel looked at his twin. “I thought you didn’t want to tell her.” “I changed my mind.” Tristan shrugged, then looked at Scarlet. “You and Gabriel were on your way to happily-ever-after and then his crazy ex-girlfriend shot you with an arrow—” “Your ex-girlfriend killed me?” Scarlet looked at Gabriel. Gabriel turned back around. “It’s a long story—“ “No, it isn’t. I’ll sum up.” Tristan took a step forward and crossed his arms in front of his chest again. “Gabriel was courting a girl from a nearby village named Raven—” “I was not courting her,” Gabriel snapped. “Whatever.” Tristan rolled his eyes. “So, Raven assumed Gabriel would marry her. But then he met you.” He shrugged again. “Suddenly, Gabriel no longer cared about Raven. So, what did Raven do?” Scarlet’s mouth parted. “She…killed me?” Tristan nodded. “And she also cursed the arrow that killed you.” Scarlet whipped her attention back to Gabriel. “What?” There were curses involved now? Immortality…the fountain of youth…curses…. What next, dragons? “I’m cursed?” Scarlet looked at Gabriel. “Not exactly.” Gabriel made a face. The curse wasn’t directed at you, but you still suffer a ... side effect of the curse. Because of the arrow.” “You see,” Tristan took a step forward, “Raven, being the little witch she was—“ “She wasn’t a witch.” Gabriel sighed. Tristan raised his eyebrows. “She cast a curse, Gabe. That’s something witches do. They ride on brooms, play with cats, and curse people.

Court Clerk Harold Willey was dispatched by Warren to spend a fall weekend scouting Asheville for a possible relocation facility. “Because all large cities are considered to be prospective enemy targets, a hotel in a secluded small city, wherein approximately one-hundred people could both live and work, with spaces available for a court room and clerical offices, seems a most appropriate facility for the Court,” Willey wrote in his report to the chief justice. Willey

Even as he mentally went over the details of the major events of 1920s United States history for a quiz, he had plenty of leftover brainpower to consider how his back ached from leaning over the engine, the grease he could feel in his ear, the frustration of this rusted head stud, the proximity of his court date, and the presence of others here on the ley line.

Your whole world would change in one night. But that is not my plan.

Tenacity, a smart mouth, and a talent for provoking people into making mistakes, were where I was comfortable.

I do not believe for one moment you are stupid. I am watching you, little gildi.

Then it hits me. Ravens live up to seventeen years. If this pair are the same birds who nested here when I was a child, this means that they were alive the day my parents died. The raven is saying that I don’t have to struggle to regain my memories. They will tell me what they saw. What they know. Obviously, the testimony of a pair of ravens is never going to hold up in a court of law, but if they can point me in the right direction, I can present any new evidence I find myself. I nod to show that I understand. “Later,” I whisper.

The rescue team was to consist of Lord Raza, myself, Tiernan, Sarah, my Star's Guard, Frederick, Aidan, Elder Wasutke, Tristan, Lord Eadan, and his team of Hunters.

Maybe we are truly fated only to end in emotional tragedy…” “Little dove,” his whisper came with a salty kiss to my lips before he straightened and placed his own by my ear, “love is tragedy.” I hate that I love you.

However.” He held up a knowing finger. “I’ve found them more inclined to do all sorts of things if you wash it first.

No matter how much you want to hate me, it’ll never measure up to the loathing my father clearly harbors for me. You think you rendered me worthless? Don’t flatter yourself, Malyr. I was born worthless.

You said you hope that your actions added months to my time in the dungeons, but little dove, I never escaped them. They are with me.

It was never about saving me. It was about whether I could survive becoming what I was meant to be.

He doesn’t speak love like a poet. He speaks it in broken bones and battles won for my sake.

I don’t need a knight. I need a warlord who’ll burn kingdoms if I scream.

You said you could handle us both. Show me. Let me fuck your ass while Malyr keeps fucking your cunt.

Now I’m like a beast trained on the scent of your blood, utterly, irrefutably, immutably fixed on hunting… you… down.

Whenever you look about the city, remember that it sparkles because of you and only you. Every Raven who calls Valtaris his home is in your debt, but none so more than I. Without you, I could not have given my family a proper burial. You are… a miracle, my little white dove.

The time a man has to wait before he can kill his enemy is well-spent between the legs of his enemy’s betrothed.

There was nothing wrong with me. There was nothing wrong with her. Or maybe, there was something wrong with both of us, but who cared? Even if we were both broken, then put together, her cracks matched up perfectly with mine.

This is the closest your mouth will ever come to mine again.

unkindness of ravens

And once we are gone from this earth, I will continue to love you among the stars. I will be the night, the darkest patch of sky around you, just to ensure that everyone can see how you sparkle.

In Welsh, the word bran means “raven.” This gives Bran's command to bury his body at the White Mount an additional resonance, for this hill has been long associated with Tower Hill at the Tower of London. The legends concerning the ravens that are still kept at the Tower relate that Britain will not be invaded while they still live on the hill. Bran's head thus remains in memory as a palladium against invasion.37 The Grail Castle, which goes unnamed in the earlier legends, is called “Corbenic” in the Lancelot-Grail. In the original British language, Corbenic also signifies the “the raven's head.” It is one of the many words associated with the Grail quest with which scholars and speculators have made hay: Corbenic, seen through French eyes, becomes le corps bénit, or blessed body; cors bénit, or blessed horn; or cor bénit, or blessed court. Bodies—sacred and other—drinking horns, and courts keep weaving the myth together, as we have seen. Truly, the legend of Bran underlies the Grail legends, providing a fertile seedbed for later development.

I’d heard her name in the dungeons, and that realization crashed into me like a tidal wave, the icy shock of it stealing my breath, replacing the odd heat with a raw, scraping coldness. The dichotomy was jarring, a violent clash between the serene vision of her and the nightmarish echo of her name. How could the goddess show me such a mesmerizing creature bearing the name of my personal demon?

Hate. Bitterness. Loathing. It all ceased to exist in the space where his gaze connected to mine, transforming into something vulnerable and painfully raw, a shimmering tide of unspoken words and hidden sentiments, a tumultuous dance of shadows and light, flickering and blazing within those icy depths.

Are you running from me again?

Even at a walk, I seemed to have landed myself in your arms, just like you said.

Ignorance bleeds lies, and lies breed wars.

I will forever care for you.

I will forever fly with you.

a Raven and a human dancing beneath stars that no war could ever extinguish.

You have a fate to fulfill. Fate cannot be outrun.

Fate is woven with precision, not chance; every thread perceived woven wrong is nothing but an essential right in the complex tapestry of a life.

I will forever treasure you,

I will forever provide for you.

Why go through such exertion?

How I spend… way too many hours watching you, annoyingly fixated beyond sense or reason?

Deception's most profound irony is how it can make the realest truths look like the greatest deceits.

I will forever protect our young.

Lick the knife until you bleed. Sebian likes the sound of your moan. Indulge him.

Guess spending so many years of tolerating each other’s shit had started to take a toll on our friendship. Still, we stuck together for our common goal. We both wanted revenge, and we would help each other see it through, come rain or high wind.

Because of your father, I am a million shattered pieces, put back together all wrong. Now get that damn knife away from me before you accidentally hurt yourself. Only I get to hurt you.

Ravens have fated mates, chosen for us by our goddess herself to bond with for eternity.

But make no mistake, little white dove… I have every intention of being my cruel, cold-hearted self with you in the privacy of our chambers.

Even someone with the charm of syphilis sores would look like the better option standing beside you, Malyr,

You’re plain awful to her every chance you get, hurting and humiliating her. It’s driving her straight into my arms… and my bed.

Then whose raven was in Galantia’s chamber last night?

That damn bird of mine hit her window trying to get back to me seconds after I sent him away.

Because you’re mine. Mine to hurt. Mine to agonize. Mine to break.

Licks knives so prettily but doesn’t know how to suck a cock.

That is the closest my lips will ever come to yours.” He rose around me and walked off.

Never wanted, never loved. And how could anybody love something so deranged? So broken?

Today made that quite clear. It was stupid to expect that Father would bother to get me back. It was even more stupid to hope that you would… somehow protect me.

I want to break her. You want to protect her. How utterly amusing, don’t you agree?

Im-pres-sive. No lady had managed to catch Prince Malyr’s interest for marriage, just as none had managed to claim Sebian’s undivided attention. Pray tell, however did you manage to snatch both? I might yet learn from you.

Deception’s most profound irony is how it can make the realest truths look like the greatest deceits.

Did you really think that I could ever love you?” A faint laugh. “Yes, you did. Poor little Galantia, abandoned, ignored, utterly worthless. Never loved, and oh, so foolish.

Should I tell him how wet you are for this, sweetheart? How needy your little cunt is for his shadows?

Do you like this, little dove?” Malyr asked. “Does Brisden’s whore daughter enjoy how my shadows are playing with her tight, pink cunt?

Little white dove, you assured me you would be mine to do with as I please, remember? Mine to break. Mine to hurt. Mine to torment. And mine to share.

What could be more depraved than giving my future wife to my best friend, watching how he makes her moan like a whore?

Because you’re my little dove, astonishingly beautiful, so fucking perfect with how I can strangle you to within inches of fainting and make you come all the harder for it.

My love is not gentle, or tender, or easy. But it is real, grown from hate and pain deep inside a chest sullied by shadows. It is cutting and biting, leaving behind scars as unfading as my love for you.

Numbers mean nothing, Malyr.” He stroked his beard, his focus on the table once more, his hair put into a tight braid. “A thousand Ravens can decimate an army of humans ten times that. You mustn’t fear them.” “I don’t fear them.” I feared myself. Didn’t trust this wild, vicious blackness inside my chest. How it writhed and slithered, twisting at my core, carving itself through the gap in my ribs in an attempt to escape my meager control. My gift. My curse.

You, Galantia, are Malyr’s fated mate. You were supposed to die together in Valtaris under boulders and shadows, with your little hand clasped inside his the way—

Hear me, Galantia. No matter where you go, no matter what form you take, I will find you. You cannot outrun me. You cannot outfly me. Every path you tread, be it north, east, south, or west, I will chase after because… you… are… mine.

The way I had scarred her, choked her, smacked her, struck her, and bit her made it all the more evident; each morally corrupted misdeed a reason why I’d stopped searching for my mate to begin with. I could never reconcile hurting my anoaley for my pleasure, neither could I stop liking the things I liked.

And once we are gone from this earth, I will continue to love you among the stars. I will be the night, the darkest patch of sky around you, just to ensure that everyone can see how you sparkle. And once your light starts fading, I will take you into my black embrace, and that is where I will love you beyond death.

Did I do it?” Sebian’s mouth opened and closed as if gasping for air. “Did I… did I save her?

pluck my feathers and call me a chicken.

If there’s love in this pain, then I want it. I just don’t want there to be any pain in this love.

love is tragedy.

Malyr was my tormentor, my paradox, my teacher. He was a million painful lessons, shaping me into who I had always meant to become. He was my fate.

Even blind, I could always tell the difference between these two men from the shape of their cocks.

Until something prodded at my cunt. Sebian’s cock. Right. Beside. Malyr’s.

Everything dimmed. Everything turned silent.

Yes. One of you has to die for her to live.

I would have asked you to take good care of my son.

A smile curved my lips. But why not? I pressed my tongue against the blade. With a determination that returned some of my pride, I slid it upward, slowly, languidly. It burned.

I will defend her to the death,” barked Lhoris. The Prince cocked his head. “You are lovers?” The deep, rich tone had turned to a hiss. Lhoris growled. “She is family. I will die before you take her.

I could understand the Shadow Court raiding the palace and killing gold-givers. But we should already be dead. All three of us. Why the fates had he taken us captive? Why the fates had he looked me straight in the eye and said he just wanted me?