Fae Isles Quotes

I’d rather be your equal in danger than your toy in safety.

I’m not fully sure what you are to me. I’m not sure if I dare to figure it out. But I know you’re a first.

I leaned into that fall. I let myself plummet, into the unfathomable, bottomless depths of my heart, and trusted his arms to catch me.

Did I ever tell you how utterly irresistible you are when you’re threatening bloody murder in my name?

You’ll keep your hands off me in that bed, too.” “As I was planning to.” He looked up from his writing, eyes mocking me. “Unless you change your mind of course”. “I’d rather fuck a cactus,” I informed him. “Interesting. Let me know how you like it.

Have I told you you’re an arrogant prick?” “You have … And you don’t seem to mind that much.

I would dare much, sir, against a man who seemingly does not understand boundaries. You must ask a woman if you may enter her abode and, when granted approval, you may do so. If they request you leave, then you remove yourself. And as far as lording over all who linger on this isle, I must inquire upon who named you king. They must be sorely lacking in wits!

I can’t help feeling we might just be quite perfect together. So don’t ever worry … there’s no comparison. You’re incomparable. And tell me if you ever doubt that, because it will be my pleasure to remind you a hundred times more.

Does it make me a monster?” I managed, the fears falling over my lips at last. “Wanting you?” His smile…it wasn’t a smile. It was an open wound. It was a wistful darkness that spread over his face and transformed into something hurt and haunted and utterly heart-breaking. “Does it make me innocent, wanting you?

I have to marry a monster.

Do not ever forget what I would do to keep you safe.

Did you know?” I murmured, lifting my hand to run my fingers through his wet hair. “You’re all mine.” “I knew before you knew.

I can’t save you, Creon. But I can love you to death while you save yourself.

I love your sharp edges so damn much … Watching you trying to turn yourself into something soft and pliable for the rest of the world is a very special kind of torture.

What’s the sense in winning a war if you’ve become the evil you were fighting by the time you triumph?

Uncaged, undone, he was power and beautiful and death, and he was mine.

I’m fully fucking honest when I say no one has ever frightened me as much as you do. I’ve never had this much to lose before.

You’ll destroy me one day … You’ll be the utter ruin of me, and hell take me, you’ll be worth every moment of it.

The Holstrom girls are dead. You and Amelie are being sent to Faerwyvae in their place.

You’re not too much. The place is too small. Very different problem, very different solution.

the undoubtedly majestic length of him

To forgetting what I’m missing and enjoying what I have while it lasts.

He was here. He was mine. We’d take on the whole damn world if we had to, and who was going to stop us as long as we were together?

I can’t see myself through your eyes … It feels too close to a lie. But I can feel you see me.

I can still let you go, if that’s what you want. If you’re going to leave, do it now. Leave before my heart realizes what’s happened.

I’m glad you’re back,’ I whispered. I’ll always come back, Em. He buried his face in my hair, his breath faltering for a moment as he kissed the crown of my head. I’m sorry I made you doubt that. I’ll always come back for you.

Every young woman dreams of marrying a royal. A king, a prince, it doesn’t matter, so long as he’s richer than sin and handsome enough to fake a smile at. What else could a girl ask for? Well, a working brain, for starters. And I do suggest all young women have one of those.

I once hated you’, I added quietly, brushing down over his temple. ‘Do you understand? I don’t just want you to know how I feel about you now. I want you to remember and feel the difference. I want you to realise in the very marrow of your bones that last time you showed yourself to the world, you became the world to someone.

You can't reveal to me that you're Folk---it must have been part of the enchantment that exiled you from your world. Isn't that it? I've heard of that---yes, that account of the Gallic changeling. And isn't it a peripheral motif within the Ulster Cycle?* * There are, in fact, several stories from France and the British Isles which describe this sort of enchantment. In two of the Irish tales, which may have the same root story, a mortal maiden figures out that her suitor is an exile of the courtly fae after he inadvertently touches her crucifix and burns himself (the Folk in Irish stories are often burning themselves on crucifixes, for some reason). She announces it aloud, which breaks the enchantment and allows him henceforth to reveal his faerie nature to whomever he chooses.

I don’t have the faintest idea of where I want to end up in life. Yes, in the past, I spent most of my days being violently unhappy, and yes, I have wondered at times if it was even worth going on. But I’m happier now than I’ve ever been, do you understand? Every morning that I wake up with you in my arms, you change the world all over again, and I want more of that – more of everything you make me see and feel. So I’m not going anywhere – not as long as you’re with me.

She hadn’t commented on the lower half of the carving, which depicted a Helscape beneath their thrones, some kind of underworld. Humanoid figures writhed in pain amid what looked like icicles and snapping, scaly beasts—either past enemies conquered or an indication of what failure to bow to the rulers would bring upon the defiant. The suffering stretched throughout, lingering even underneath that archipelago and its mountaintop palace. Even here, in paradise, death and evil remained. A common motif in Midgardian art, too, usually with the caption: Et in Avallen ego. Even in Avallen, there am I. A whispered promise from Death. Another version of memento mori. A reminder that death was always, always waiting. Even in the blessed Fae isle of Avallen. Maybe all the ancient art that glorified the idea of memento mori had been brought to Midgard by these people. Maybe she was thinking too much about shit that really didn’t matter at the moment. Especially with an impassable river before her.

I can’t see myself through your eyes, cactus. It feels too close to a lie. But I can feel you see me.

For some time now, the King of Hybern has found himself unhappy with the Treaty the other ruling High Fae of the world made with you humans long ago. He resents that he was forced to sign it, to let his mortal slaves go and to remain confined to his damp green isle at the edge of the world. And so, a hundred years ago, he dispatched his most-trusted and loyal commanders, his deadliest warriors, remnants of the ancient armies that he once sailed to the continent to wage such a brutal war against you humans, all of them as hungry and vile as he. As spies and courtiers and lovers, they infiltrated the various High Fae courts and kingdoms and empires around the world for fifty years, and when they had gathered enough information, he made his plan. But nearly five decades ago, one of his commanders disobeyed him. The Deceiver. And—” The Suriel straightened. “We are not alone.

You need to understand there's nothing gentle about me," he interrupted. "Nothing tender, nothing kind. Do not mistake me for something mortal just because I'm trying to keep the monster down for you. You're courting darkness, and I'm so very frightened of eclipsing your light.

With not a single soul to open my heart to, how would I keep it from turning to ice in my chest?

Ruhn controlled the anger thrumming through him, his shadow magic seeking to veil him, shield him from sight. Another reason his father resented him: beyond his Starborn gifts, the bulk of his magic skewed toward his mother’s kin—the Fae who ruled Avallen, the mist-shrouded isle in the north. The sacred heart of Faedom. His father would have burned Avallen into ashes if he could. That Ruhn did not possess his father’s flames, the flames of most of the Valbaran Fae, that he instead possessed Avallen abilities—more than Ruhn ever let on—to summon and walk through shadows, had been an unforgivable insult.

His silver hair is slicked away from his face,

His frame is lean and tall, skin pale, eyes the most shocking shade of silver-blue above chiseled cheekbones flushed the palest rose. His hair is a silver blond that falls in silken wisps past his pointed ears. He wears a black silk waistcoat and trousers, both patterned with silver threaded designs, but he wears no jacket. His white shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, free of cravat or tie.

His dark wings spread restlessly behind his back, a shield between me and the world – hiding the two of us here in our cocoon of darkness, nothing but the silvery orb above our head to keep the shadows at bay.

though Ruhn himself bore no such magic. Fire magic was common among the Valbaran Fae, wielded by the Autumn King himself. But rumor claimed Ruhn’s magic was more like those of his kin who ruled the sacred Fae isle of Avallen across the sea: power to summon shadows or mist that could not only veil the physical world, but the mind as well. Perhaps even telepathy.

Ruhn’s magic was more like those of his kin who ruled the sacred Fae isle of Avallen across the sea: power to summon shadows or mist that could not only veil the physical world, but the mind as well. Perhaps even telepathy.

Bryce rode the elevator up to her floor, mulling everything over in the silence. She’d meant what she said to Hunt—she didn’t think her father was behind Danika’s and the pack’s deaths. She had little doubt he’d killed others, though. And would do anything to keep his crown. The Autumn King was a courtesy title in addition to her father’s role as a City Head—as for all the seven Fae Kings. No kingdom was truly their own. Even Avallen, the green isle ruled by the Stag King, still bowed to the Republic. The Fae had coexisted with the Republic since its founding, answerable to its laws, but ultimately left to govern themselves and retain their ancient titles of kings and princes and the like. Still respected by all—and feared. Not as much as the angels, with their destructive, hideous storm-and-sky powers, but they could inflict pain if they wished. Choke the air from your lungs or freeze you or burn you from the inside out. Solas knew Ruhn and his two friends could raise Hel when provoked.

It would have been helpful, after all, if there were any books to be found with titles such as Ten Ways To Quietly Get Rid Of Murderous Alves or The Lady’s Guide To Dealing With Dejected Demons.

Maybe in another life, Franco and I could have been something

Et in Avallen ego. Even in Avallen, there am I. A whispered promise from Death. Another version of memento mori. A reminder that death was always, always waiting. Even in the blessed Fae isle of Avallen.

I don’t feel like a villain,” I blubbered. “I just feel like a failure.” “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” His lips brushed the crown of my head, tender and chastising at once. “Emeline Thenessa, love of my life, you’re farther from a failure than anyone I’ve ever met in this world. Don’t try to argue. It will win you nothing but more declarations of my heartfelt admiration, and they will be elaborate.

You keep trying to be perfect, Em.” As if he had read the thoughts playing through my mind. “You keep trying to be the flawless hero. But I truly don’t think it’s perfection that will save us in the end. It’s persistence. It’s digging your heels in the sand and refusing to give up until things are finally as they are supposed to be.

Look, suppose you ever change your mind about this, or that you ever end up feeling unsure of unsafe around him--” I stiffened. “Agenor.” “Yes, yes,” he impatiently cut in, waving my interruption aside, “you love him and he’s perfect and you’re going to make him a flock of tiny demon babies – it’s all good, Em.

I’ll make myself useful here and do some work in advance. I’d enjoy having a free day tomorrow, after all the excitement.

I split the egg, added some of the white to the powder, and mixed it to a thick paste.

He nodded. As if to commit me to his memory. As if to mark me.

Even here, in paradise, death and evil remained. A common motif in Midgardian art, too, usually with the caption: Et in Avallen ego. Even in Avallen, there am I. A whispered promise from Death. Another version of memento mori. A reminder that death was always, always waiting. Even in the blessed Fae isle of Avallen. Maybe all the ancient art that glorified the idea of memento mori had been brought to Midgard by these people.

a flower does not argue with the earth that nourishes it.

And without waiting for a response, he faded.

No-clue-years-old.

Because you want to or because they want you to?

It’s so gods-damned easy to get drunk on you, Em – on the way you feel about me. As if maybe I’m a soul worth saving after all.

Considering how little I wanted to do with his body, it would really be better if he just didn’t acknowledge I had one at all.

His thumb rushed along my slippery lips

every next stroke sent another bolt of lightning into the very heart of me,

Were those dogs?

I swear. On my … on my tits.’ Finn burst out in mildly hysterical giggles. Tared, exchanging a baffled glance with Lyn, repeated, ‘On your what?’ ‘Well, you're supposed to swear on something dear to you, aren't you?

There were not many fae he’d trust blindly on any battlefield, but the Mother’s son was the first of them.

You’ve never been stupid. Angry, but never stupid.

Zera, how in hell am I supposed to choose between people I love?’ ‘You love yourself first,’ she said without a moment of hesitation, settling her bag back into its usual corner. Without that impossible weight in her hands, even her words sounded lighter. ‘And then you see who celebrates that and who tries to stop you.

Which are you? Seelie or unseelie?” “Obviously, I’m seelie. I’m dressed in regal clothes and riding in a carriage, aren’t I?” “Is that all the difference amounts to?” “Do you know nothing of Faerwyvae? Are you not taught our ways growing up, like we are taught about yours?” We are, but I don’t say so out loud. For the things we are taught about the fae are hardly flattering. He huffs. “I’m an ambassador, not a nursery maid. Regardless, I’ll educate you. All fae once were unseelie, which you so callously deem lesser fae. Back when the isle was ours alone and no human had set foot here, we were different. We were…creatures, you might say. Spirits. Animals. We were so alive back then.” His voice sounds wistful. “Or so I’m told, at least. I’m hardly old enough to have been born that long ago. In any case, we didn’t start to change until your kind came to the isle.

I see a fae female with blue skin and a mask of seaweed and coral—an obvious Sea Court fae. A male with dark brown skin, a leafy-green suit, and moss for hair seems a candidate for Earthen. An androgynous fae next to him seems composed entirely of shimmering particles of glitter, making me think Star Court, while the next fae over must be Lunar, with her black dress speckled with glimmering opals and moon-white skin. Or did I get the two swapped? The pixie in a ruffled pink dress with wings the color of a robin’s egg could be Spring. Or perhaps Wind? No, Wind must be the fae with the streaming hair that constantly moves as if in flight. And the two fae with golden skin and bright hair are equally convincing as both Fire and Solar.

About seventy years after Scot, witch suspect Isobel Gowdie told her trial that she had met a number of elves, whose names were Robert the Jakis, Sanderis the Read Reaver, Thomas the Fearie and Robert the Rule. The ballad Hind Etin supplies another name of the period, Etin being the fae’s given name coupled with ‘hind,’ an Old English word denoting a country boy or farm servant. The brownie of Bladnoch in Wigtownshire was called Aiken Drum, whilst a brownie known in the Ochil Hills of Central Scotland was Tod Lowrie or Red Bonnet. The latter title was clearly a human designation; the former might be more authentically faery.6 From Stornoway on Shetland, we hear a number of Gaelic names, many of which seem to be nicknames or were perhaps names used to avoid saying the fay’s true name: there are Deocan nam Beann (milkwort), Popar, Peulagan and Conachay (little conch). The trows of the northern isles have a variety of names, some of which retain hints of Viking Norse whilst others just sound like nicknames: Gimp, Kork, Tring, Tivla, Fivla, Hornjultie, Peester-a-leeti, Skoodern Humpi, Bannock Feet and Hempie the Ferry-louper. On the Isle of Man, we hear of a fairy king called (prosaically) Philip and his queen, Bahee, which is at least exotic enough to sound more authentic.

I’ve never wanted anyone to be happy the way I want you to be, and you’re telling me to let you walk straight into the arms of some murderer with a monster’s heart?” “Yes, because I can think for myself, you self-castigating idiot!” … “Because you’re supposed to respect my wishes, and if my wishes are to throw myself into some murderer’s arms, then who the hell are you to think you know better?

Very good, Emelin,’ I suggested helpfully. ‘Making excellent progress. I wouldn’t want to run into you in a dark alley late at night.’ His smile became a grin. Wouldn’t mind your company in dark alleys at all.

Creon stirred next to me, turning his back to me. One of his dark wings came up with the movement and settled over my blankets, a light, reassuring weight pushing me deeper into the mattress. Steadying me – grounding me.

I do miss my voice sometimes, Em. My mouth went dry. ‘What do you—’ I’d kill to tell you just once how senselessly in love with you I am. To be able to whisper it in your ear at night. His fingers moved with breathless urgency between us, his other hand tight on my hip. This gods-damned silence has never destroyed me the way it does with you.

Home. Home. It had never been much, never been more than a place I couldn't wait to leave, and yet it had been safe. Easy. Familiar. And now I had been ripped out with stems and roots, and it turned out I hadn't even left a hole to be filled behind.

You fell in love with a fae executioner. Did you truly think that would end well?

Ten minutes to prepare for war. I’d make do with it.

An isle of near-permanent twilight, the home world of her breed of Fae … A land of Dusk.

I’d rather fuck a cactus,’ I informed him. Interesting. Let me know how you like it.

Brace yourself for the force of my ire. I certainly won't be muzzling myself for you, at least.' 'I'd take offense if you did, he signed dryly. I like you loud and utterly undone, cactus.

P.S. You could persuade me to start praying a little more often.

Just because people have reasons doesn’t mean they’re right. Reasons are easy to come by. It’s wisdom that creates the true challenge.

Well,’ I admitted, ‘I suppose it’s not the most suitable kind of accommodation for kidnapping, but …’ The words died away on my lips. I wasn’t sure how to finish my argument without insulting him, which made sense, given that none of my thoughts about him had ever been very complimentary. He scribbled, Not enough blood? Another laugh fell from my lips. ‘Suppose so. I missed the torture instruments and the dangling chains at the ceiling, too.’ Will take note.

Be honest with me, little thief. Do you really loathe me as much as you’re telling me you do?

Everything you say – every single thing you say – turns my mind inside out all over again, do you realise that? I thought I’d seen it all, and now you’re telling me the world I thought I knew never even existed … You change everything,” he whispered. “And I can’t stop revelling in it – can’t stop craving it. I can’t bear the thought of going back again.

Yes, I want you. Desperately. But not constrained – never constrained. Surprise me. Scandalise me. But for the love of the gods, please don’t ever surrender to me.

Allie,” he said hoarsely, “I’ll save the entire damn world tomorrow if you ask me to. Let me put you first for a few hours. Please.

Allie,” he said hoarsely. He barely heard himself over the rush in his ears. “I’m falling in love with you. I’ve been falling in love with you since I found that first bloody letter, and I haven’t stopped plummeting since.

Let me do better for you,” he whispered. “Let me change the world for you.

Let me go.” “I wish I could.” A hoarse growl, so close to her face, sounding nothing like the sophisticated fae lord of mere minutes ago. “I wish you weren’t ensnaring me the way you do.

She was too sensible for desperate longing, too practical for star-crossed romance. But even a sensible mind wasn’t immune to the ravenous glances of inhumanly gorgeous fae lords, it turned out.

An age that was not so much expressed in numbers, but rather in how little we knew what we were doing here. No-clue-years-old.

Because they made you feel small. A pause. And there is nothing small about you.

glaring at every wall and window she encountered: stupid violent frescos, stupid pompous marble, stupid flashy gold.

But rumor claimed Ruhn’s magic was more like those of his kin who ruled the sacred Fae isle of Avallen across the sea: power to summon shadows or mist that could not only veil the physical world, but the mind as well. Perhaps even telepathy.

Hell, I can’t save you, Creon. But I can love you to death while you save yourself.

Your problem is you’re waiting for some punishment,’ he interrupted, leaning leisurely as ever against the edge of the desk as he ran a hand through his long hair. ‘Which I suppose is natural, given that you grew up with parents who wouldn’t allow you to forgive yourself for a mistake unless you’d suffered appropriately first. It’s just nonsense, too.

Let’s go, Em.

My heart cracks as I notice the slightly raised scars that linger around the top of the tattoos. It takes a lot to leave a mark on an immortal. Hatred boils within my veins, heating my skin as I think about how I’d punish the men who did this to him. They’d beg for death before I was through with them.