Crescent City 3 Quotes

The friends they’d made were what mattered in the end. Not the enemies. Through love, all is possible.

A world where people loved and valued books and learning so much that they were willing to die for them. Can you imagine what such a civilization was like?

I love you. I fell in love with you in the depths of my soul, and it’s my soul that will find yours again in the next life.

You’re my home, Hunt. Our love spans across stars and worlds, remember?” She smiled slightly. “I’ll always find you.

Okay, let’s do a head count. If you’re disowned, disgraced, or both, raise your hand.” Tharion, Baxian, Lidia, Hunt, and Ruhn raised their hands.

The gods know what would happen if all us females were unsupervised. Absolute anarchy. Cities would crumble.

Now I don’t fucking care who you are, so long as you’re mine.” Her eyes shot to his, again full of surprise. “Because I’m yours, Day. I’m fucking yours.

Why she had named Brannon after the oldest legends from her family’s bloodline: of a Fae King from another world, fire in his veins, who had created stags with the power of flame to be his sacred guards.

I’m sick and tired of people using girl as an insult.

It is on Avallen, and females are not allowed beyond the lobby of the archives.” “Yeah, our periods would probably get all over the books.

But what is eternal, what is made of love … that can never be destroyed.

Who’d you piss off to get sent to retrieve me, anyway?” She could have sworn Nesta’s lips curved into a smile. “On a good day, too many people to count. But today … I volunteered.

And you saw me. For the first time, you saw me. I could talk to you as I hadn’t spoken to anyone. You reminded me that I was—I am—alive. I hadn’t felt that way in a very long time.

Let’s light it up.

Cassian’s waiting for you, Nesta,” Azriel said—tone gentling. “Take off the Mask.” Nesta stayed silent, Ataraxia ready in her hand. One swipe, and Azriel would be dead. “He’s waiting for you at the House of Wind,” Azriel went on. “At home.” Another blink from Nesta. The silver fire banked a little. Like whoever Cassian was, and whatever the House of Wind was … they might be the only things capable of fighting the siren song of the Mask.

And I’m your motherfucking executioner.

Honor is all I have,” Irithys said, the heat of her indigo flames strong enough to warm Lidia’s chilled hands. “Honor, and my name. I will not sully or yield them.

Surprise: I can teleport. Don’t barf.

I yield my crown, my title, to the queen.

I’m with you. All of me. You and I, we’ll finish this.

You brought so much joy into my life, too, Ruhn.

I fell in love with you in the depths of my soul, and it's my soul that will find yours again in the next life.

Flynn threw up his hands. “Am I the only one who feels like they’re on a bad acid trip?” Tharion scrubbed at his face. “I’m still on one, I think.

I’m assuming you have some plan up your sleeve that you’re going to spring on us at the worst possible moment.” “I think you mean the coolest possible moment,” Bryce said,

That is what I want on my new business cards. Bryce Quinlan: Better than Expected.

The world seemed to hold its breath as the elegant doe walked up to Ruhn and gently, lovingly, nuzzled his neck.

And Rhysand is … your king?” Nesta snorted. “He’d like to be. But no. He’s the High Lord of the Night Court.

You do make me proud, you know. Every day before now, and every day after. Nothing you do will ever change that.

All right. Let’s ring Hel’s doorbell.

An otter in a bright yellow vest leapt onto the quay, dripping everywhere. It rose onto its hind legs in front of Tharion, whiskers twitching, spraying droplets of water. Sathia grinned. “Stop it,” Tharion muttered. “It only encourages them to be cuter.

What is it you want to know?" Nesta asked carefully. Bryce glanced between them. "How'd you two meet?" "There was a war," Nesta said shortly. "Between who?" Bryce asked. Azriel answered this time. "Between an evil Fae King and us." "You two, or like . . . everyone?" Nesta gave her a withering look, "Yes, the King of Hybern declared war on just me and Azriel.

Wyrd, we called her in that old world.

Prince Hunt Athalar Danaan. He would have hated the last name were it not for the fact that it was a marker of her ownership over his soul, his heart.

But Ruhn lay awake, holding her tight, and did not let go until dawn.

Blessed with a Fae form and a humanoid one, gifted with elemental powers.

Gods, what did he do to you? Anger and grief filled the question as it came from all around him, from inside him. Ruhn managed to say, Nothing you haven’t done a thousand times yourself.

You can do good," Azriel warned, "while still being bad.

You're as much of a monster as they are," Nesta accused. Bryce knew. She'd always known. "Love will do that to you.

Where are you?? I’m having separation anxiety! Get back here!!!

Do Not Enter. “Now, that’s practically an invitation,” he said, earning a laugh from Lidia as he kicked in the door.

What are you?” Ace breathed. Still panting, blazing with fire, Lidia said, “An old bloodline,” and got to her feet.

Et in Avallen ego. Even in Avallen, there am I.

You can do good," Azriel warned, "while still being bad.” Bryce whistled. "I know a number of males back home who could only dream dream of delivering that sentenced with such cool." Nesta chuckled. "I know a good number, too." Azriel threw Nesta an incredulous look. But Nesta was grinning at Bryce.

You could learn a thing or two from your sister.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ruhn demanded. Flynn and Dec pretended to be busy looking into a closed butcher shop as they passed by. “You’re a prince,” Lidia said coolly. “Start acting like one.

And for the first time in her life, as she walked through that sea of death … she might have lifted her chin a bit higher. Might have felt a mantle settle on her shoulders, a train of starlight in her wake. Might have felt something like a crown settle upon her head. Guiding her into the dark.

Who you are isn’t about what’s biologically in your system. It’s about who raised you. Who you are now.

You can do good," Azriel warned, "without ceasing to be evil.

For Jelly Jubilee in the flesh?” Hunt grinned. “Anything.

For the moment, it was only their souls, their bodies, and nothing else mattered.

So he said to her, mind-to-mind, I love you. I fell in love with you in the depths of my soul, and it’s my soul that will find yours again in the next life.

She extended the Starsword toward his face. He didn’t dare move as she bopped him on the nose with its tip.

Her brother only pressed a kiss to her brow and said, “Long live the queen.

Aidas was smiling faintly—joy and hope brightening his remarkable eyes. “It seems you got a little lost on your way to find me, Bryce Quinlan. But welcome to Hel.

Rhysand, he’d called himself. The one who looked so much like Ruhn.

You could, uh, talk to her,” Flynn said from beside Ruhn, shutting yet another useless drawer full of catalog cards. “I can literally feel you brooding.” “I’m not brooding.” “You’re brooding,” Declan said from Ruhn’s other side. “You’re brooding,” Ruhn said, nodding to Dec’s taut face.

So, first things first: I think it sucks that we save the world and still have to be back at work two days later.

If I don’t get the chance to tell you later … I love you.

If we get through this, Ruhn,” she said, “I’ll buy you a beer.

They're not going to ask for your permission like that Night Court dude.

Danika Fendyr would have skewered all of you to the front gates of the Den for how you treated Quinlan.

The Autumn King growled as he backed into the closet, “I will kill you and your bitch mother for this.” She motioned him further inside. “I’ll pencil you in for tomorrow.

She’d seen that look on his face before, too—long, long ago. The thoughtful, quiet stone to Brann’s wildfire.

Ruhn, who had driven the sword right through their father’s cold heart.

Laughter was the sole alternative to crying.

can take these photographs that capture a moment in time, but not the people in it?

I’m sorry about your brother’s suffering.” The words steadied Bryce, focused her. “I’ll make sure my sire pays for it one day.” “Good” was all Nesta said. “Good.

Then Azriel said in a soft, lethal voice, “Explain or you die.

Ember really looked like she might cry now, especially as she turned back to Nesta and said, “This time with you was a gift, Nesta. It truly was.

Would you have listened if I had no backstory other than realizing what was right and wanting to fight for it? Of doing whatever it took to make sure that good prevailed against tyranny? Or does my being a mother somehow make my choices more palatable to you?

Ruhn Danaan, Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae,

The way the sunlight gleamed on his long dark hair, turning it into a silken cascade of night.

Think an earthworm with a mouth full of double rows of teeth. The size of two city buses.

But inside him, beyond that sea of pain and despair, Bryce was the entirety of his world.

The strike had been for the rebellion, Hunt knew, but the escape—the escape had been entirely for Ruhn.

She was so fucking beautiful. It wouldn’t have mattered to him, hadn’t mattered to him during those weeks they’d gotten to know each other,

Every choice he’d made had led them from bad to worse to catastrophic.

I knew these smoldering good looks would come in handy one day.

But maybe she could turn him into a worm and step on him. That’d be a mercy.

That silvery flame flashed in Nesta’s eyes. A shiver slithered along Bryce’s spine. Fae and yet … not.

What do you want to hear?" Bryce asked, opening her music library. Nesta and Azriel swapped glances, and the male answered a bit sheepishly, "The music you played at your pleasure halls." Bryce laughed, "Are you a club rat, Azriel?" He glowered at her, earning a smirk from Nesta, but Bryce played one of her dance tunes - a zippy blend of thumping bass and saxophones. And as the three of them walked into the endless dark, she could have sworn she caught Azriel nodding along to the beat.

His mouth found her neck, and his teeth grazed over her pulse. “You’re my best friend, you know that?” He pulled away, staring down at her, and she couldn’t stop her star from flaring with light. “I mean, you’re my mate and wife—fuck, that still sounds weird—but you’re my best friend, too. I never thought I’d have one of those.

Ruhn had called her a queen before she left. And for the first time in her life, as she walked through that sea of death … she might have lifted her chin a bit higher. Might have felt a mantle settle on her shoulders, a train of starlight in her wake. Might have felt something like a crown settle upon her head. Guiding her into the dark.

Hey, Dec,” he groaned. Declan laughed thickly—like he might have been holding back tears. “It’s so fucking good to hear your voice.” Ruhn squeezed his eyes shut, throat working. “I love you. You know that?

It felt like my power went into you,” Hunt said, eyes tracking the lightning as it slithered down her body. “It’s … yours.” “As mine is yours,” she said, touching a fleck of starlight glittering between the sable locks of his hair.

Ruhn nodded to Hunt. “We need you to be the Umbra Mortis. He’s a badass—he wouldn’t hesitate.” “A badass,” Hunt said, “not a cannibal.” “Desperate times,” Ruhn said, meeting Hunt’s stare. Determination and focus filled the prince’s face.

Bruce nodded, "This is what we call classical music --- the music performed in the Crescent City Ballet. This is from a ballet called the Glass Coffin." Bryce hit play again, and the violins began. Again Nesta was silent, knees now clutched to her chest, staring into the darkness. As if she was dedicating every inch of herself to listening. Bryce tapped her foot along to the melody, reading the expressions stealing across Nesta's face as the music played. Wonder and curiosity, joy and --- longing. Nesta seemed to be thrumming with the music, though she didn't move at all. Like she was coming alive merely listening to the sound.

As they walked on, Nesta said, “When we stop again … can you show me how that contraption works?” “The phone?” The word couldn’t be translated into their language, and it sounded outright silly in their accent. But Nesta nodded, her eyes fixed on the tunnel ahead. “Trying to figure out what it does has been driving us all crazy.

I was wrong. I think the Oracle meant all of them, Ruhn went on, mind-to-mind. The male lines. The Starborn Princes included—all you fucks who have corrupted and stolen and never once apologized for it. The entire system. This bullshit of crowns and inheritance.

But why do you know this? How do you have this collection?” “I’ll refrain from making the comparison to a dog with a bone.” Jesiba closed her laptop with a soft click. Interlaced her fingers and set them upon the computer. “Quinlan knew when to keep her mouth shut, you know. She never asked why I have these books, why I have the Archesian amulets that the Parthos priestesses wore.” Ithan’s mouth dried out. He whispered, “What—who are you?

Bryce said, her chest aching. "Your mom must be proud of all your... badassery too." Nesta's back stiffened. "My mother would be thrashing in her grave if she knew I was a warrior --- if she knew I wore trousers every single day and that I'm mated to a Fae male. I can't tell what would have horrified her more: me marrying a poor human man or becoming what I am now.

Ruhn read the words on each wooden door: Year Three. Year Seven. Year Five. She skidded to a halt, gripping a doorjamb. Ruhn reached her side as she shoved her face up to the glass. Year Nine. A group of teenagers—most of them mer, with striped skin and various coloring—sat in rows of desks in the classroom. Lidia pressed a hand against the door. Tears rolled down her cheeks. And then a boy, golden-haired and blue-eyed, looked away from his teacher and toward the window. The kid wasn’t mer. The ground slid out from under Ruhn. The boy had Lidia’s face. Her coloring. Another boy to his left, also not mer, had dark hair and golden eyes. Lidia’s eyes. Behind them, Flynn grunted with surprise. “You’ve got brothers on this ship?” “They’re not my brothers,” Lidia whispered. Her fingers curled on the glass. “They’re my sons.

The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced … those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage.

Nesta’s mate said, “You have one minute before Rhys gets here and explodes.” “Oh, Rhys will be fine, Cassian,” Ember said, in the Fae’s language. At Bryce’s shocked face, Randall said in the same language, “It got too hard to mime everything. They gave us that same bean-thing they offered you.” But Bryce shook her head. “Rhysand will be fine? The guy who brings darkness incarnate—” “He and Randall bonded about being overprotective dads,” Ember said. “So now Rhys knows exactly the sort of shit you like to pull, which apparently you pulled here, too…

Azriel asked her with terrifying calm, “What happened to the Horn?” Bryce held his stare, seething, beyond trying to spin any bullshit. But Nesta said, “She is the Horn, Azriel. It’s inked into her flesh.” She lowered her hand from Bryce’s shoulder and peered at her. “Isn’t that right? It’s the only thing that would have made your tattoo react that way earlier.” Azriel’s hazel eyes flickered with predatory intent. He’d carve it out of her fucking back.

One by one, rapid as shooting stars, the thoughts raced through Bryce. More on instinct than anything else, she dropped to her knees and slammed her hand atop the eight-pointed star. Bryce reached with her mind, through layers of rock and earth—and there it was. Slumbering beneath her. Not firstlight, not as she knew it on Midgard—but raw Fae power from a time before the Drop. The power ascended toward her through the stone, like a glimmering arrow fired into the dark

So that eight-pointed star,” Nesta said into the quiet as they began walking again, shoes squishing, “it’s a symbol of the Starborn people in your world. It means nothing else?” “Why all the questions about it?” Bryce asked through chattering teeth. Azriel walked a few steps behind, silent as death, but she knew he was listening to every word. Nesta went silent, and Bryce thought she might not answer, but then she said, “I had a tattoo on my back—recently. A magical one, now gone. But it was of an eight-pointed star.” “And?” “And the magic, the power of the bargain that caused the tattoo to appear … it chose the design. The star meant nothing to me. I thought maybe it was related to my training, but its shape was identical to the scar on your chest.

Ember at last pulled away from Nesta. But she gently put a hand to the female’s cheek and whispered, “You’ll find your way,” before walking to the portal. Bryce could have sworn there were tears in Nesta’s eyes as her mother stepped back into Midgard. But those tears were gone when Nesta met Bryce’s stare. And Cassian, like any good mate, sensed when he wasn’t wanted, and walked over to the fireplace to pretend to read some sort of old-looking manuscript. Bryce knew that, also like any good mate, if she made one wrong move, he’d rip her to shreds. Which was precisely why Hunt had come back into the room, and was watching Nesta carefully. “Alphaholes,” Nesta echoed, eyes gleaming with amusement. Bryce chuckled and drew the Starsword. Again, Cassian tensed, but Bryce just offered it to Nesta. The female took it, blinking. “You said you had an eight-pointed star tattooed on you,” Bryce explained. “And you found the chamber with the eight-pointed star in the Prison, too.” Nesta lifted her head. “So?” “So I want you to take the Starsword.” Bryce held the blade between them. “Gwydion—whatever you call it here. The age of the Starborn is over on Midgard. It ends with me.” “I don’t understand.” But Bryce began backing toward the portal, taking Hunt’s hand, and smiled again at the female, at her mate, at their world, as the Northern Rift began to close. “I think that the eight-pointed star was tattooed on you for a reason. Take that sword and go figure out why.

Poor Nesta’s been in the doghouse since you took their weapons and dumped us here,” Ember explained. “I tried telling Rhysand and Azriel how there’s no stopping you when you’ve got your mind set on something, and I think Feyre—Rhysand’s mate—believed me, but…” Ember glanced at Nesta and winced. “I apologize again for my daughter’s behavior.” “I made the choice to give her the Mask,” Nesta reminded Ember. To Bryce, she added wryly, “Your mother somehow doesn’t believe that I did so willingly.” Bryce rolled her eyes at her mother. “Great. Thanks for that.” She gestured to the portal shimmering behind them. “Shall we?” Ember smiled softly. “They’re truly gone, then.” “Gone, and never to be heard from again,” Bryce said, her heart lifting with the words. Ember’s eyes gleamed with tears, but she turned, taking Nesta’s hands and clenching them tightly in her own. “Despite the fact that my daughter lied and schemed and basically betrayed us…” she started. “Tell us how you really feel, Mom,” Bryce muttered, earning an amused sidelong glance from Nesta. But Ember continued, looking only at Nesta, “I am glad of one thing: that I was able to meet you.” Nesta’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced down at their joined hands. Bryce cut in, if only to spare Nesta from her mom’s increasingly weepy-looking expression, “Next time I take on intergalactic evil, I’ll try to accommodate your bonding schedule.” Ember finally looked over at Bryce, glaring. “You and I are going to have words when we get home, Bryce Adelaide Quinlan.

A great civilization lived on Midgard long before the Asteri conquered it.” He could have sworn she sounded sad. “One that prized knowledge in all its forms. So much so that a hundred thousand humans marched at Parthos to save these books from the Asteri and Vanir who came to burn them.” She shook her head, face distant. “A world where people loved and valued books and learning so much that they were willing to die for them. Can you imagine what such a civilization was like? A hundred thousand men and women marched to defend a library—it sounds like a bad joke these days.” Her eyes blazed. “But they fought, and they died. All to buy the library priestesses enough time to smuggle the books out on ships. The Vanir armies intercepted most of them, and the priestesses were burned, their precious books used as kindling. But one ship …” Her lips curved upward. “The Griffin. It slipped through the Vanir nets. Sailed across the Haldren and found safe harbor in Valbara.” Ithan slowly shook his head. “How do you know all this, when no one else does?” “The mer know some of it,” she hedged. “The mer aided the Griffin across the sea, at the behest of the Ocean Queen.

Where did the dagger come from?” Azriel’s hazel eyes held nothing but cool wariness. “Why do you want to know?” “Because the Starsword”—she motioned to the blade he had down his back—“sings to it. I know you’re feeling it, too.” Let it be out in the open. “It’s driving you nuts, right?” Bryce pushed. “And it gets worse when I’m near.” Azriel’s face again revealed nothing. “It is,” Nesta answered for him. “I’ve never seen him so fidgety.” Azriel glowered at his friend. But he admitted, “They seem to want to be near each other.” Bryce nodded. “When I landed on that lawn, they instantly reacted when they were close together.” “Like calls to like,” Nesta mused. “Plenty of magical things react to one another.” “This was unique. It felt like … like an answer. My sword blazed with light. That dagger shone with darkness. Both of them are crafted of the same black metal. Iridium, right?” She jerked her chin to Azriel, to the dagger at his side. “Ore from a fallen meteorite?” Azriel’s silence was confirmation enough. “I told you guys back in that dungeon,” Bryce went on. “There’s literally a prophecy in my world about my sword and a dagger reuniting our people. When knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be.” Nesta frowned deeply. “And you truly think this is that particular dagger?” “It checks too many boxes not to be.” Bryce lifted a still-bloody hand, and she didn’t miss the way they both tensed. But she furled her fingers and said, “I can feel them. It gets stronger the closer I get to them.