Grisha Trilogy Quotes

Why can a Grisha possess but one amplifier? I will answer this question instead: What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men.

I had spared the stag's life. The power of that life belonged to me as surely as it belonged to the man who had taken it.

Will you say it? "Aleksander" His grin faded and his grey eyes seemed to flicker. "Again." "Aleksander

What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men.

I want you to know my name. The name I was given, not the title I took for myself. Will you have it? "Yes" "Aleksander

Fight me as long as you're able. You will find I have far more practice with eternity

You will always be one of us.

I will tell you a story, one I used to tell to a little boy with dark hair. A silent boy who rarely laughs, who listened more closely than I realized. A boy who had a name and not a title

Just… be careful.’ I stared at her, baffled. 'Of what?’ 'Of powerful men.

You were meant to be my balance Aline. You are the only person in the world who might rule with me, who might keep my powers in check

What have you come here for, Alina?” I answered him honestly. “I wanted to see you.” I caught the briefest glimpse of surprise before his face shuttered again. “There are two thrones on that dais. You could see me anytime you liked.

The darkling gently folded me in his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of my hair 'I will strip away all that you know, all that you love, until you have no shelter but mine

There are rumors that your Lantsov prince has been sighted.” I drifted nearer, trying to keep my voice casual. “Where?” He glanced up, his lips curling in a slight smile. “Do you like him?” “Does it matter?” “It’s harder when you like them. You mourn them more.” “Tell me, Alina,” said the Darkling. “Has he claimed you yet?” “Claimed me? Like a peninsula?” “No blushes. No averted eyes. How you’ve changed. What about your faithful tracker? Will he sleep curled at the foot of your throne?

I’m also Sturmhond, commander of the Volkvony, scourge of the True Sea.’ 'Scourge?’ 'Well, I’m vexing at the very least.

I don't care if you think I'm a Saint or a fool or the Darkling's whore. If you want to remain at the Little Palace you will follow me. And if you don't like it, you will be gone by tonight, or I will have you in chains. I am a solider. I am the Sun Summoners. And I'm the only chance you have.

Do you think I could have come to you again and again, if you had been less alone? You called me and I answered

Tell him you see me when he takes you in his arms

That first winter, when it was time for her friends to leave, the girl ventured out into the show to say goodbye, and the stunning raven-haired Squaller handed her another gift. "A blue kefta," said the math teacher, shaking her head. "What would she do with that?" "Maybe she knew a Grisha who died," replied the cook, taking note of the tears that filled the girl's eyes. They did not see the note that read, You will always be one of us.

Did you tell him, Alina? Does the boy know how willing you were to give yourself to me? Did you tell him what I showed you in the dark?” A wave of shame rushed through me and the glowing light faltered. The Darkling laughed.

They wanted a Grisha queen. Mal wanted a commoner queen. And what did I want? Peace for Ravka. A chance to sleep easy in my bed without fear. An end to the guilt and dread that I woke to every morning. There were old wants too, to be loved for who I was, not what I could do, to lie in a meadow with a boy’s arms around me and watch the wind move the clouds.

I am ancient Alina. I know things about power that you can barely guess

I sought Morozova amplifiers for you Alina, so that we can rule as equals

If there weren't an all-powerful dictator and his monstrous horde to get to, I'd be opening a bottle of champagne.

The Darkling would not hesitate. He would not grieve. His darkness would consume the world, and he would never waver.

I know what you thought, what you always thought of me. It's so much easier that way, isn't it?

Why are you taking this so personally?” “Wouldn’t you?” “I have no idea. I’ve always been beautiful.” “And humble too?

Why do you waste all of your strenght fighting your true nauture?

I'd like to think of myself as delightfully complex.

I told them you hate herring.” “Why?” “And that you love plum cake. And that Ana Kuya took a switch to you when you ruined your spring slippers jumping in puddles.” I winced. “Why would you tell them all that?” “I wanted to make you human,” he said. “All they see when they look at you is the Sun Summoner. They see a threat, another powerful Grisha like the Darkling. I want them to see a daughter or a sister or a friend. I want them to see Alina.

You don't want to be doing this. This is the only thing I want to be doing

The Darkling had told her he was destined to rule. He had claimed his throne, and a part of her too. He was welcome to it. For the living and the dead, she would make herself a reckoning. She would rise.

The Darkling smiled, but this time the turn of his lips was cold. He shoved off the table and stalked toward me. “I will enter the Fold, Alina, and I will show West Ravka what I can do, even without the Sun Summoner. And when I have crushed Lantsov’s only ally, I will hunt you like an animal. You will find no sanctuary. You will have no peace.” He loomed over me, his gray eyes glinting. “Fly back home to your otkazat’sya,” he snarled. “Hold him tight. The rules of this game are about to change.

I love you, Alina, even the part of you that loved him.” He grinned and my heart flip-flopped the way it always had.

Yuyeh sesh,” Tolya called after her in Shu. “Ni weh sesh,” she shouted over her shoulder. And then she was gone. “What does that mean?” “It’s something our father taught us,” Tolya replied. “Yuyeh sesh: ‘despise your heart.’ But that’s the direct translation. The real meaning is more like ‘do what needs to be done—be cruel if you have to.’” “What’s the other part?” “Ni weh sesh? ‘I have no heart.

Genya would have to keep her face hidden, but she didn't seem to mind. She'd wrapped her shawl around her head and declared, 'I shall be a woman of mystery.' I reminded her not to be too intriguing.

I wasn’t nervous or frightened. I wasn’t anything anymore.

I felt that pull, the longing of a frightened girl. Even now, after everything he'd done, I wanted to believe the Darkling, to find some way to forgive him. I wanted Nikolai to be alive. I wanted to trust the other Grisha. I wanted to believe anything so that I wouldn't have to face the future alone. The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak.

I’ve waged the war you forced me to, Alina,” said the Darkling. “If you hadn’t run from me, the Second Army would still be intact. All those Grisha would still be alive. Your tracker would be safe and happy with his regiment. When will it be enough? When will you let me stop?

Whether I was a Saint or a queen or the most powerful Grisha who ever lived, I would always turn to him.

It's good to doubt Saints, Vladim. And men.

And I guess it's a reminder that wanting and deserving aren't the same thing.

His jaw tensed as the Corporalnik finished her work. When the skin had knitted together, the Darkling dismissed her with a wave. She hovered briefly, then slipped away, fading into nothing. “There’s something I’ve been wondering,” he said. No greeting, no preamble. I waited. “The night that Baghra told you what I intended, the night you fled the Little Palace, did you hesitate?” “Yes.” “In the days after you left, did you ever think of coming back?” “I did,” I admitted. “But you chose not to.” I knew I should go. I should at least have stayed silent, but I was so weary, and it felt so easy to be here with him. “It wasn’t just what Baghra said that night. You lied to me. You deceived me. You … drew me in.” Seduced me, made me want you, made me question my own heart. “I needed your loyalty, Alina. I needed you bound to me by more than duty or fear.” His fingers tested the flesh where his wound had been

I saw how he looked at you,” he said. “I like how he looks at me!” I practically shouted. He shook his head, that bitter smile still playing on his lips. I wanted to smack it right off his face. “Just admit it,” he sneered. “He owns you.” “He owns you too, too, Mal,” I lashed back. “He owns us all.

So far today, I’d nearly died and possibly started a riot. Maybe I could set fire to something before breakfast. Bardugo, Leigh (2013-06-04). Siege and Storm (The Grisha Book 2) (p. 335). Henry Holt and Co. (BYR). Kindle Edition.

Don't let me be alone.

The age of Grisha power is coming to an end.

If I lost focus for even a moment, she’s smack me with her stick and say, “Dreaming of dancing with your dark prince?

There is a fine line between fear and veneration, Alina Starkov. I can move that line. That is the prize I offer you.

The problem with wanting is that it make us weak." - Darkling

Where were you?” he asked. “I was getting worried.” “I was waylaid by a gang of angry bears,” I murmured into his shoulder. “You got lost again?” “I don’t know where you get these ideas.” Bardugo, Leigh (2013-06-04). Siege and Storm (The Grisha Book 2) (p. 9). Henry Holt and Co. (BYR). Kindle Edition.

The boy and the girl had both known loss, and their grief did not leave them. Sometimes he would find her standing by a window, fingers playing in the beams of sunlight that streamed through the glass, or sitting on the front steps of the orphanage, staring at the stump of the oak next to the drive. Then he would go to her, draw her close, and lead her to the shores of Trivka's pond, where the insects buzzed and the grass grew high and sweet, where old wounds might be forgotten. She saw sadness in the boy too. Though the woods still welcomed him, he was separate from them now, the bond born into his bones burned away in the same moment that he'd given up his life for her.

The firebird was Ravka. It was right that we should kneel.

otkazat’sya, “the abandoned.” It was another word for orphan

All at once, the pain in my chest was so bad it nearly bent me double. Because this was what Mal had been coming to show me. Because that look - that open, eager, happy look - had been for me. Because I would always be the first person he turned to when he saw something lovely, and I would do the same. Whether I was a Saint or a queen or the most powerful Grisha who ever lived, I would always turn to him.

They're hungry for this, I realized. Even after they've seen what he can do, even after watching their own people die. The Darkling wasn’t just offering them an end to war, but an end to weakness. After all these long years of terror and suffering, he would give them something that had seemed permanently beyond their grasp: victory. And despite their fear, they loved him for it.

I did apprentice with a Fjerdan shipbuilder. And a Zemeni gunsmith. And a civil engineer from the Han Province of Bolh. Tried my hand at poetry for a while. The results were … unfortunate. These days, being Sturmhond requires most of my attention.” Bardugo, Leigh (2013-06-04). Siege and Storm (The Grisha Book 2) (p. 132). Henry Holt and Co. (BYR). Kindle Edition.

The moment the Darkling had slipped his hand over my arm in the Grisha pavilion so long ago, he’d taken possession of me. I just hadn’t realized it.

It would be something special," said Tamar, "to have a Grisha on the throne." "She's right," added Genya. "To be the ones to rule, instead of just serve.

I’m not Grisha. I’m a mapmaker. I’m not even a very good mapmaker.

And I didn't care. The Saints could keep their miracles. The Grisha could keep their long lives and their lessons. Mal was dead.

He understood then. The Grisha lived as shadows did, passing over the surface of the world, touching nothing, forced to change their shapes and hide in corners, driven by fear as shadows were driven by the sun. No safe place. No haven. There will be, he promised in the darkness, new words written upon his heart. I will make one.

He hopped lightly from the stairs and jogged off to join his friends. “Wish me luck!” he called over his shoulder. “Good luck,” I said automatically and then wanted to kick myself. Good luck? Have a lovely time, Mal. Hope you find a pretty Grisha, fall deeply in love, and make lots of gorgeous, disgustingly talented babies together. I sat frozen on the steps, watching them disappear down the path, still feeling the warm pressure of Mal’s hand in mine. Oh well, I thought as I got to my feet. Maybe he’ ll fall into a ditch on his way there. I

They were still gawking at me. I reminded myself that these men could make my heart explode in my chest, but eventually I just couldn’t stand it. “I don’t do tricks, you know,” I snapped. The Grisha exchanged a glance. “That was a pretty good trick back in the tent,” Ivan said. I rolled my eyes. “Well, if I plan on doing anything exciting, I promise to give fair warning so just … take a nap or something.” Ivan looked affronted. I felt a little snap of fear, but the fair-haired Corporalnik let out a bark of laughter. “I am Fedyor,” he said. “And this is Ivan.

The world seemed suddenly large again. I wasn't sure I liked it.

I hope you weren't looking for me to be the voice of reason. I keep a strict diet of ill-advised enthusiasm and heartfelt regret.

I love you, Alina, even the part of you that loved him.

Anyway, I think I made a bit of progress." "How did you manage that?" "Well, they liked that you served in the First Army, and that you saved their prince's life." "After he risked his own life rescuing us?" "I may have taken some liberties with the details." "Oh, Nikolai will love that. Is there more?" "I told them you hate herring." "Why?" "And that you love plum cake. And that Ana Kuya took a switch to you when you ruined your spring slippers in puddles." I winced. "Why would you tell them all that?' "I wanted to make you human," he said. "All they see when they look at you is the Sun Summoner. They see a threat, another powerful Grisha like the Darkling. I want them to see a daughter or a sister or a friend. I want them to see Alina." I felt a lump rise in my throat. "Do you practice being wonderful?" "Daily," he said with a grin. Then he winked. "But I prefer 'useful.

I am not Ruined, I am Ruination.

No Grisha has ever taken a second amplifier. The risks—" "Now that's a word best not used around me. I tend to be overfond of risk.

If I'd had my powers back even for a second, I would have burned the world to a cinder.

Fine," he said with a weary shrug, "Make me your villain.

I wondered if those paths would just keep taking us further and further apart, and if a day might come when we would be strangers to each other once again.

Fine make me your villain.

I think it is because the Grisha do not suffer the way the Saints suffer, the way the people suffer.” “Maybe,” I said absently. “But you have suffered, haven’t you, Alina Starkov? And I think … yes. I think you will suffer more.” My head jerked up. I thought he might be threatening me, but his eyes were full of a strange sympathy that was even more terrifying. I

Did you know I had two brothers?” Ivan asked abruptly. The familiar smirk was gone from his handsome face. “Of course not. They weren’t born Grisha. They were soldiers, and they both died fighting the King’s wars. So did my father. So did my uncle.

He could have run, could have wept, could have clung to the sides of the skiff until the darkness took him, but he did none of those things. He stood unflinching before the gathering dark.

Take its head off.” “What?” “You’ve used the Cut before.” “It’s a mountain,” I said. “A really big mountain.” “And you’re the first Grisha to wear two amplifiers. Do it.” “It’s miles away!” “Are you hoping I’ll grow old and die while you complain?

That first winter, when it was time for her friends to leave, the girl ventured out into the snow to say goodbye, and the stunning raven-haired Squaller handed her another gift. “A blue kefta,” said the math teacher, shaking her head. “What would she do with that?” “Maybe she knew a Grisha who died,” replied the cook, taking note of the tears that filled the girl’s eyes. They did not see the note that read, You will always be one of us.

Sorry,” I mumbled. “Maybe you’re hungry,” said Zoya. “I always get mean when I’m hungry.” “Are you hungry all the time?” asked Harshaw. “You haven’t seen me mean. When you do, you’ll require a very big hanky.” He snorted. “To dry my tears?” “To stanch the bleeding.

Because this was what Mal had been coming to show me. Because that look-that open, eager, happy look-had been for me. Because I would always be the first person he turned to when he saw something lovely, and I would do the same. Whether I was a Saint or a queen or the most powerful Grisha who ever lived, I would always turn to him.

When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable.” The age of Grisha power is coming to an end. His answer had been to turn the Fold into a weapon. But what if Grisha power could be transformed by men like Sturmhond?

You’re wearing his symbol,” he observed, his glance flicking to the little gold charm hanging at my neckline. “His symbol and his colour.” “They’re just clothes.” Mal’s lips twisted in a cynical smile, a smile so different from the one I knew and loved that I almost flinched. “You don’t really believe that.” “What difference does it make what I wear?” “The clothes, the jewels, even the way you look. He’s all over you.

The oprichniki weren’t Grisha, but they were just as frightening.

I’d been lonely my whole life, but I’d never been truly alone before, and it wasn’t nearly as scary as I’d imagined.

—No soy Grisha —dije abruptamente. —La evidencia sugiere lo contrario —replicó él, sin preocupación alguna —. ¿Qué te hace estar tan segura? —¡Mírame! —Te estoy mirando.

Something strong enough to topple kings, and even Darklings. The age of Grisha power is coming to an end.

« What was it? The crisp edge of a winter wind. Bare branches. The smell of absence, the smell of night. » Leigh Bardugo. « Grisha 02 - Siege and Storm. » Apple Books.

(...) we would be crushed and no one would ever know, wild-flowers pressed between the pages of a book and forgotten.

Three figures emerged in elegant fur hats and heavy wool kefta: one in crimson, one in darkest blue, and one in vibrant purple. “Grisha!” the girl whispered. “Quick!” said the boy. In

I didn't have to gather them. They come to me. Other countries don't treat their Grisha so well as Ravka," he said grimly. "The Fjerdans burn us as witches, and the Kerch sell us as slaves. The Shu Han carve us up seeking the source of our power. What else?" •chapter 5, page 80

that’s what heroes do.” “I don’t want him to be a hero!” “He can’t change who he is any more than you can stop being Grisha.” I’d railed at him for wanting me to be something I couldn’t, and all the while, I’d demanded the same thing from him. “You know the problem with heroes and saints, Nikolai?” I asked as I closed the book’s cover and headed for the door. “They always end up dead.

Now, I’ll take the prisoner back to her quarters, and you can run off and do … whatever it is you do when everyone else is working.” Ivan scowled. “I don’t think—” “Clearly. Why start now?” Bardugo, Leigh (2013-06-04). Siege and Storm (The Grisha Book 2) (p. 32). Henry Holt and Co. (BYR). Kindle Edition.

One of the essential tenets of Grisha theory was "like calls to like," but Morozova seemed to believe that if the world could be broken down to the same small parts, each Grisha should be able to manipulate them.

That first winter, when it was time for her friends to leave, the girl ventured out into the snow to say goodbye, and the stunning raven-haired Squaller handed her another gift. "A blue kofta," said the math teacher, shaking her head. "What would she do with that?" "Maybe she knew a Grisha who died," replied the cook, taking not of the tears that filled the girl's eyes. They did not see the note that read, You will always be one of us

It was white. White and gold. It was livery. I told myself it meant nothing. It was just a color. But I was wrong. That color meant everything. It was a command to the Queen’s ladies that they shouldn’t greet me or acknowledge that I’d entered a room. It was an indelible line drawn between me and the other Grisha. It was a signal to the King that he could follow me into my chambers and press me up against the wall, that I was available for his use. That there was no point to crying out.

On the day the Grisha Examiners came, the boy and the girl were perched in the window seat of a dusty upstairs bedroom, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mail coach. Instead, they saw a sleigh, a troika pulled by three black horses, pass through the white stone gates onto the estate.

No Grisha has ever taken a second amplifier. The risks—” “Now, that’s a word best not used around me. I tend to be overfond of risk.

They aren’t any better in Fjerda. There are witchhunters who don’t eat animals, won’t wear leather shoes or kill a spider in their homes, but they’ll burn Grisha alive on the pyre.

But he'd forgotten that before she'd become a Grisha and a Saint, she'd been a ghost of Keramizin. She and the boy hoarded secrets as Pelyekin hoarded treasures. They knew how to be thieves and phantoms, how to hide strength as well as mischief. Like the teachers at the Duke's estate, the priest thought he knew the girl and what she was capable of. He was wrong. He did not hear their hidden language, he did not understand the boy's resolve. He did not see the moment the girl ceased to bear her weakness as a burden and began to wear it as a guise.

ONE QUIET AFTERNOON when the other Grisha had ventured out of Os Alta, Genya convinced me to sneak into the Grand Palace, and we spent hours looking through the clothes and shoes in the Queen’s dressing room. Genya insisted that I try on a pale pink silk gown studded with riverpearls, and when she laced me up in it and stuck me in front of one of the giant golden mirrors, I had to look twice. I’d learned to avoid mirrors. They never seemed to show me what I wanted to see. But the girl standing next to Genya in the glass was a stranger. She had rosy cheeks and shiny hair and … a shape. I could have stared at her for hours. I suddenly wished good old Mikhael could see me. “Sticks” indeed, I thought smugly. Genya