Raven Queen Quotes

Why is a raven like a writing-desk?

Ah, but you were not a pawn. All along, you have been the queen.

Goodfellow?” Glitch stared at Puck nervously. “Robin Goodfellow?” “Oh, look at that, he’s heard of me. My fame grows.” Puck snorted and leaped off the roof. In midair, he became a giant black raven, who swooped toward us with a raucous cry before dropping into the circle as Puck in an explosion of feathers. “Ta-daaaaaaaaaa.

Yet no matter what they were doing, everyone in the forest waited with an indrawn breath, waiting for the taste of autumn, the smell of change, the first news of a king and queen unlike any the world had known before.

Queens and kings Kings and queens Blue lily, lily blue Crowns and birds Swords and things Blue lily, lily blue

But people are still people, however comfortable their surroundings. They lie, they feud, they betray and however much you give them, they always want more.

I cannot believe the path to victory lies in staining our souls so black we become indistinguishable from those we fight.

A historian is a hunter, my lord. Seeking out signs in the undergrowth of correspondence and memoir, tracking prey via the spoor of memory.

Sing a song of suspense in which the players die. Four and twenty ravens in an Edgar Allan Pie. When the pie was broken, the ravens couldn't sing. Their throats had been sliced open by Stephen, the new King. The King was in his writing house, stifling a laugh While his queen was in a tizzy of her bloody Lovecraft. When the dead maid got the garden for her rank as royal whore, King's shovel made it double and he married nevermore.

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.

Only in war does the madman become sane.

War is ever the folly of the ignorant. But I have seen much to convince me some wars must be fought, to the bitterest end if need be.

Love may claim our hearts but lust will always claim our bodies. It is the traitor that lurks in every soul.

Put more than one philosopher together and you’ll birth an argument,” Erlin commented. “A truism I’ve observed the world over. In fact, I once saw one argue with himself, it got quite violent in the end.

The price of stability is unpreparedness.

What has happened cannot be changed, and so you cannot touch it. Change is the province of the future.

Hide an advantage and you double its value.

Some memories are best left to wither.

All knowledge is a threat to someone.” Vaelin

She was still a wild thing, a woman with the heart of a she-wolf and a face that could tear down cities. Now, everyone knew that as well.

Anyone who claims they have a genius for war should be regarded as the greatest of fools. For the successful conduct of war is an exercise in the management of folly.

We are all mad here, don’t you know? And it runs in my family, it’s a part of my blood and he’s here, Time has finally found me and I _ ‘ His voice shredded. His eyes burned. ‘I haven’t the slightest idea, your Queenness. I find that I simply cannot recall why a raven is like a writing desk.

It was better to meet friends at their houses, their mother, Aurora, explained, because Dad had a lot of breakable things around the farm. One of the breakable things: Aurora Lynch. Golden-haired Aurora was the obvious queen of a place like the Barns, a gentle and joyous ruler of a peaceful and secret country. She was a patron of her sons’ fanciful arts (although Declan, the eldest, was rarely fanciful), and she was a tireless playmate in her sons’ games of make-believe (although Declan, the eldest, was rarely playful). She loved Niall, of course – everyone loved larger-than-life Niall, the braggart poet, the musician king – but unlike everyone else, she preferred him in his silent moods. She loved the truth, and it was difficult to love both the truth and Niall Lynch when the latter was speaking.

My advice: If you every have the chance to change the world, don't hesitate. Leave your great big mark.

What do you think the world is if not just an endless parade of madness? To make war is madness. To seek power is madness." She laughed louder, throwing her arms wide. "And madness is glorious!

I had betrayed my daughter, my son, my husband and now my people. I was hollow and empty, nothing more than a shadow. But shadows have the power to kill. And in that shadow, I became the Raven Queen.

I saw cities, and roads of marvelous construction. I saw cruelty and greed, but I've seen them here too. I saw a people live a life that was strange in many ways, but also much the same as anywhere else." "Then why are they so cruel?" There was an earnestness to the girl's face, an honest desire to know. "Cruelty is in all of us," he said. "But they made it a virtue.

First, picture the forest. I want you to be its conscience, the eyes in the trees. The trees are columns of slick, brindled bark like muscular animals overgrown beyond all reason. Every space is filled with life: delicate, poisonous frogs war-painted like skeletons, clutched in copulation, secreting their precious eggs onto dripping leaves. Vines strangling their own kin in the everlasting wrestle for sunlight. The breathing of monkeys. A glide of snake belly on branch. A single-file army of ants biting a mammoth tree into uniform grains and hauling it down to the dark for their ravenous queen. And, in reply, a choir of seedlings arching their necks out of rotted tree stumps, sucking life out of death. This forest eats itself and lives forever.

a single-file army of ants biting a mammoth tree into uniform grains and hauling it down to the dark for their ravenous queen. and, in reply, a choir of seedlings arching their necks out of rotted tree stumps, sucking life out of death. this forest eats itself and lives forever.

I was a slave, but never a fool. This empire is vast beyond imagining and we have killed only a fraction of the force they will bring against us. They will kill us, all of us, for we are slaves and we cannot be allowed even the barest hope of freedom. Without us, they have no empire.

If you believe our cause so hopeless, why join us?" "Because you offered something I had forgotten could be offered, a choice. And I choose to die free.

Courage?" I gave a very soft laugh. "I find courage is just another of life's illusions. In the end, we all do what we must.

It's a rare man who can guard against beauty.

The End is only the beginning.

My mother used to say that men would fight and kill for money, but they would only die for their gods.

Trinidadian men do not just have eyelashes for days, they have something more subliminal that does not make itself known to you until it is nuclear and you are stuck with eleven kids in Jamaica, Queens, while he is tickling ivories for a traveling circus.

Have we freed this man or cursed him?" he wondered aloud. "Freedom is never a curse, brother," Thirty-four insisted. "But it is often a hard road.

I think I preferred him jaded. The world might be a better place were it ruled by disappointed souls.

We hear her voice in the pounding of our own pulse, in the cry of the raven, and in the wild wind.

Face after face contorted in hate, men, women, children. Whatever lies had been voiced against me had clearly gained near-universal acceptance. I knew then that, regardless of what transpired here, my home was now lost to me. It wasn’t just that these people would never accept me, more that I would never forgive their gullibility.

Ah, but you we're not a pawn, All along you have been the queen

He wants to make an end. And we will.

profile.

enchanted

We found a jewel in the desert,’” I quoted. “’And from it fashioned a charred cinder.

The saddles? Yeah, they don’t like me. But the queen? She fucking hates me.

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

I have never faked sarcasm in my life.

You don’t have to go crazy to work here, we’ll train you.

Even if we lose, what of it? We have made a song of freedom that will ring for a thousand years. No one will forget the Iceni or their red-haired queen.

That I have always wanted to be a queen for the wrong reasons. That I’m spoiled. That I’m a cold-hearted bitch. That my people don’t want me. Just like my husband. Just like my father.

Wise Bear said something in his own language, mouth twisting in disgust as if the words stained his tongue. He caught Vaelin’s enquiring gaze and provided a terse translation, “Cat People.

Mary fell asleep early, but her dreams were most unpleasant. She was a mouse running across the kitchen floor, and Elizabeth was a sharp-clawed cat waiting silently to pounce. Then she was a wild deer being chased by famished dogs. Elizabeth was a laughing huntsman in black velvet, urging the ravenous pack onward with a whip. And then Mary was her true self, barefoot and in a bedgown, attempting to escape by night. But the castle was dark and the halls were a winding maze. Mary ran down long shadowy corridors, panting and out of breath, but at every turn she ran into blank walls or locked doors. At last she managed to yank open a door, expecting to breathe the sweet air of freedom. But the way was blocked by laughing faces, all of them growing larger and larger while Mary got smaller and smaller. There was Elizabeth . . . and Dudley . . . and Cecil . . . and Walsingham . . . and their loud laughter filled her ears, drowning her pleas like ocean waves.

Blood for honor. That was the price then, as it was the price now. It was always the price of honor. Always blood. Always pain. And as the queen was scourged, he wondered if such a thing as honor really existed at all. For what was honor if it could not strip the pride from a barbarian woman even as she was beaten before her people? What was honor if he could only defend his own by doing this to her? Honor, Decianus thought, was just an excuse for war and mayhem. An excuse for taking. Whether the taking of a woman or the taking of one tribe against another, one empire over another, one emperor over the world. An emperor like the one he served . . . If this was honor, he wanted no part in it.

The Beyond is not the eternal domain of the dead, it is the result of folly and pride, it is a scab covering a seeping wound, eternally corrupted and corrupting. To exist there is to know the chill of death for all eternity, to feel yourself slowly ebb away until you are nothing but formless consciousness, shorn of memory but aware, knowing nothing but that endless cold.

Raven, lying on the sandy ground, covered in creepy-crawlies. Spiders, cockroaches, termites, ants, crickets—they smother her, nibble on her, devouring her from hair to toenails in seconds, leaving just a skeleton behind. Apple, standing at the podium on Legacy Day. Poof, she disappears. And reappears in a goblin cave. The goblin troop moves in, brandishing salad bowls and chopping knives. Daring Charming, no story to call home, thins and melts into a wisp of a ghost, swimming endlessly through walls. The crowded Charmitorium at Ever After High, Headmaster Grimm on the stage. “And remember, students, no matter what you do, don’t follow the example of the worst, most despised, most selfish character in all of Ever After history—Raven Queen!” “Boo!” the students yell. “Boo!” says the Daring ghost. Apple’s head in a goblin bowl opens her eyes and looks straight at Raven. “Boo!

Her mother had certainly made her childhood interesting. In those days, the castle was always crowded with soldiers in spiked armor and creatures that scurried through shadows and hissed at her. Quality time with Mother had included sitting on her lap while the queen met with her generals and hatched plots to kill, conquer, and rule, orspending hours in the dungeon workshop, coughing on smoke and helping Mother make toxic potions and evil spells.

Power comes at a price, love," Veliss replied through bared teeth, maintaining the smile she offered to the townsfolk lining the square. "What power?" "All power. The power to rule, to kill, or, in your case this fine morning, the power to incite the lust of the old goat you're about to meet." "Lust? I have no desire to incite lust in anyone." Veliss turned to her with a quizzical expression, her smile suddenly genuine. "Then I'm afraid you're in for a lifetime of disappointment.

He recalled those brief years when his song had fallen silent, his refusal to heed it leaving him bereft, without guidance. It had been hard to be so rudderless in a sea of chaos and war. This, however, was much worse, because now there was the chill, the bone-deep cold that had seeped into him in the Ally’s domain and lingered on here in this world of myriad paths, all seemingly so dark. And the words, of course, those words that hounded him from the Beyond. We will make an ending, you and I.

The people cast themselves down by the fuming boards while servants cut the roast, mixed jars of wine and water, and all the gods flew past like the night-breaths of spring. The chattering female flocks sat down by farther tables, their fresh prismatic garments gleaming in the moon as though a crowd of haughty peacocks played in moonlight. The queen’s throne softly spread with white furs of fox gaped desolate and bare, for Penelope felt ashamed to come before her guests after so much murder. Though all the guests were ravenous, they still refrained, turning their eyes upon their silent watchful lord till he should spill wine in libation for the Immortals. The king then filled a brimming cup, stood up and raised it high till in the moon the embossed adornments gleamed: Athena, dwarfed and slender, wrought in purest gold, pursued around the cup with double-pointed spear dark lowering herds of angry gods and hairy demons; she smiled and the sad tenderness of her lean face, and her embittered fearless glance, seemed almost human. Star-eyed Odysseus raised Athena’s goblet high and greeted all, but spoke in a beclouded mood: “In all my wandering voyages and torturous strife, the earth, the seas, the winds fought me with frenzied rage; I was in danger often, both through joy and grief, of losing priceless goodness, man’s most worthy face. I raised my arms to the high heavens and cried for help, but on my head gods hurled their lightning bolts, and laughed. I then clasped Mother Earth, but she changed many shapes, and whether as earthquake, beast, or woman, rushed to eat me; then like a child I gave my hopes to the sea in trust, piled on my ship my stubbornness, my cares, my virtues, the poor remaining plunder of god-fighting man, and then set sail; but suddenly a wild storm burst, and when I raised my eyes, the sea was strewn with wreckage. As I swam on, alone between sea and sky, with but my crooked heart for dog and company, I heard my mind, upon the crumpling battlements about my head, yelling with flailing crimson spear. Earth, sea, and sky rushed backward; I remained alone with a horned bow slung down my shoulder, shorn of gods and hopes, a free man standing in the wilderness. Old comrades, O young men, my island’s newest sprouts, I drink not to the gods but to man’s dauntless mind.” All shuddered, for the daring toast seemed sacrilege, and suddenly the hungry people shrank in spirit; They did not fully understand the impious words but saw flames lick like red curls about his savage head. The smell of roast was overpowering, choice meats steamed, and his bold speech was soon forgotten in hunger’s pangs; all fell to eating ravenously till their brains reeled. Under his lowering eyebrows Odysseus watched them sharply: "This is my people, a mess of bellies and stinking breath! These are my own minds, hands, and thighs, my loins and necks!" He muttered in his thorny beard, held back his hunger far from the feast and licked none of the steaming food.

She had three days to ponder what that truth might be.Three days during which Dragon scarcely let her out of his sight. He went so far as to try to accompany her to the queen's solar, only to be shooed away by Ealhswith even as she smiled and took pains to reassure him. "I promise you, my lord,the Lady Rycca will be as safe here as a babe in arms. Believe me, the quarters of the queen are not entered into by miscreants." "That is all well and fine, majesty, but-" "Should you not be aware,my lord, we had an incident here last year when the Lady Krysta was taken from Winchester by stealth. Since then, my lord husband has spared no effort to assure nothing of the sort can ever happen again." She gestured toward the grim-faced guards on watch in the corridor. "You will find the same beneath my windows, Lord of Landsende,and even above us on the roof. Not even an errant bird can enter here." Even as she spoke, through the open door where she stood Dragon saw a raven alight on the sill of one of the solar's windows. Rather oddly, he thought, Krysta walked over and began talking to it. "There are four new books in the scriptorium, my lord," the queen said, unaware of what was going on behind her, "and a young priest-a friend of Father Desmond, who is now at Hawkforte-who is responsible for one of them. By the way,he has a yen to travel." That said,she shut the door not quite in his face but as close to it as that gently lady could ever come. Dragon hesitated. He eyed the guards,who eyed him back,reminded himself that he was in the house of the king,and finally decided to go look at the new books. While he was at it,he just might have a word with the priest.

In that moment, I almost kissed her. An instinctive reaction, really. I was Robin Goodfellow, the infamous Puck; I had kissed countless pretty girls, human and fey alike. Graceful nymphs, flirtatious satyrs, ethereal sidhe, and naive human females in the mortal world, none could resist my charm once I'd turned it on. I'd kissed a few boys as well, along with a mermaid, a trio of plant creatures that had no discernible gender, and one very disillusioned frog that thought it was a princess. Kissing, and all the activities that came with it, was so common an occurrence in the Nevernever it was almost expected. Love was never an option, or even an afterthought. While some fey did grow quite attached to each other, even to the point of developing real affection, true love required work, sacrifice, and putting the other person before yourself, something few faeries understood. So while I had done a lot of kissing in my long years as Robin Goodfellow, very little of it meant anything to me. With a couple exceptions, of course. The most notable was the queen we were on our way to see, right now. The princess I'd lost, who had chosen my greatest rival instead of me.

I did not expect...this, Elena. I knew I would change, knew my life would be different, but I did not expect to become unrecognisable to myself. I...I can go days without showering or sleeping. I am either ravenous or disgusted with the idea of eating. I record my body like a lab technician: how much milk am I making? How much blood am I leaking? I look in the mirror and I don't see Sophia Rocchetti, I don't see me. But I... I am addicted. I did not expect my brain to change like this, my psychology to be turned on its head. I think about Dante all the time. What is he doing? Is he happy? Sad? Is he comfortable? Breathing? Even when he is in my arms, I am paralysed with worry. But...I love him so much. It hurts how much I love him. Every day I don’t think I can love him more and then he looks up at me and I—

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.

The Hatter To understand what they did to the Hatter, I must first tell you about people who know how to play with your brokenness like it is a fidget spinner without so much as touching your skin—a form of abuse known as gaslighting.   You say it happened, they say it did not.   You say it had to, they say it cannot.   They pull at a thread of pain left by someone in your mind, and sew an entire ghost out of you.   Build you a dark wonderland and ask you to call it home. Tell you, ‘Why can’t you just be happy?’ And you cannot because happiness in this story is a queen you do not trust being built from your own delusions.   When this happens, you are like the Hatter. Trapped here in this fairytale world, half mad because someone you love keeps lying to you. Is this rain, dear? No it isn’t, it’s a raven.   Is this a door? No, it is a writing desk.   Is this my mind? No, it is now my rabbit hole, and I’m going to make you fall so far down there is no way out.   This is why the raven becomes like a writing desk, nonsensical riddles and memories become valid, nothing makes sense anymore anyway.   You start wondering if anything you ever thought happened to you actually happened to you and this is their violence. This is their abuse. It has left bruises and gashes along your brain that no one else knows are there.   Doubting yourself is now a reflex. Trusting yourself is no longer muscle memory but a long, strenuous process.   They called the Hatter completely mad. Because he is cursed to both remember and to forget. They call me mad too because my curse is to heal through remembering everything you tried to make me forget.

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?

Twenty-two hours, forty-seven minutes, and eighteen seconds to go!” she said to herself. Not long until her best friends till The End, Raven Queen and Cedar Wood, would return to Ever After High. At last! They both lived far, far away, and calls on the MirrorPhone just weren’t the same as a friend by your side.

The heap of clothes was entirely purple and black, so she threw in a pair of silver sandals to add color.

Eleven years of being with a vegan had left her ravenous for some meat, but Mollie drew the line at Tim’s kangaroo burgers.

While sitting in a room, surrounded by powerful vampires, do you ever get the feeling that you’re completely out of place? That at any moment one of them would drink your blood? That at any moment one of them will drink your blood? And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it because you’re not a powerful vampire. You’re just a plain, old—well, maybe not old since I’m only eighteen—average vampire, which basically means I’m an eighteen-year-old girl with slightly above average pale skin, super pointy teeth, and a thirst for blood. That’s never happened to you before? Huh, strange. Then

Thirty-four, still undecided on a name, sat practicing his Realm tongue with Draker, although much of the lesson seemed to consist of the correct use of profanity. "No," the big man shook his shaggy head. "Pig-fucker not fuck-pigger.

Lust? I have no desire to incite lust in anyone." Veliss turned to her with a quizzical expression, her smile suddenly genuine. "Then I'm afraid you're in for a lifetime of disappointment.

I was a child with the power of a goddess.

The world might be a better place were it ruled by disappointed souls.

Another real person was regiment member William H. Carney. Born into slavery in 1840, he became the first Black man to be given the US Medal of Honor for his bravery during the Fort Wagner fight. Although the battle took place on July 18, 1863, he wasn’t awarded the medal until May 23, 1900. He died in a Boston hospital eight years later. Lucy Holcombe Pickens was the only woman depicted on Confederate currency. She was known as the Queen of the Confederacy and was also the First Lady of South Carolina. She led a very interesting life. Google her for more info.

Her mother had certainly made her childhood interesting. In those days, the castle was always crowded with soldiers in spiked armor and creatures that scurried through shadows and hissed at her. Quality time with Mother had included sitting on her lap while the queen met with her generals and hatched plots to kill, conquer, and rule, or spending hours in the dungeon workshop, coughing on smoke and helping Mother make toxic potions and evil spells.

ceremony save brief, intimate farewells to family. However, there were some who would neither be travelling south nor staying on the tundra. Vaelin watched as a group of people gathered on the shoreline, men and women of advanced age each with his or her own canoe carrying only a small stock of provisions. He saw Far

know this goes against your independent nature, but thank you for letting me do something nice for you. A woman like you deserves to be treated like a queen.

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.

His fingers dig painfully around my own. “You’re not in charge.” “I’m a queen,” I say, chin lifting. “You’re not a queen until someone willingly bows at your feet.” “Then get on your knees, assassin, and bow.” The cruelest, most wicked grin spreads up his face. “If I get on my knees, it will be for an entirely different sort of devotion that would have nothing to do with you being a queen.

You’re going to be the queen who saves Seventh Kingdom.

You're not a queen until someone willingly bows at your feet." "Then get on your knees, assassin, and bow." The cruelest, most wicked grin spreads up his face. "If I get on my knees, it will be for an entirely different sort of devotion that would have nothing to do with you being a queen.

I will turn this swan into a raven; my goddess of darkness, my queen of death. Because only when she becomes as unprincipled as me, would she willingly stay with me in my castle of dead bones and blood

Then the dragon lowers its head as a subject might bow for a queen. I’m reminded suddenly about what my father said—about how if I manifested a dragon, I would be king of the skies. But he was wrong. Because my dragon drops in supplication to her. She’s the one who rules, and I couldn’t be more fucking proud.

Hardly. He is seduced by a sorceress, who makes herself a queen with the power to conjure fire from the air. Together they wreak terrible ruin on the world until her fire consumes him in the throes of their sinful passion.

A queen’s entire life has to be for her kingdom,” she goes on. “But I would like to finally have the chance to live my life… for me.

I wasn’t expecting to find the bitch of a queen who somehow seems to have grown a heart.

I am a queen, and cold does not cower.

Wish I would have known the significance of her golden skin. Because the first time I saw her, I knew she was extraordinary. And seeing her here and now, it’s so obvious what she is. A queen. Gold-touched and blood-blessed. And for some reason, paired with me.

I nearly hyperventilate. Nearly. I don’t, of course, because I am still a queen.

Your heart has changed. Bit by bit. The Cold Queen isn’t so cold anymore.

I am responsible for them, just like she is responsible for her daughter. When a woman faces an impossible problem, whether she be mother or queen, she must find a solution. She must find a way. So I will.

I, Queen Malina Colier, fall to the ground and kneel.

We bow,” he says, face intent on her. “We bow to the new Queen of Annwyn. The last-birthed Turley heir.

It’s only us. Just a Cold Queen and an assassin.

I’m finally going to be the queen that Orea needs me to be.

so thick with cobwebs it seemed like skeletons had decorated for a party. Raven fought her way through the webs to the far wall and ripped the velvet cloth off the mirror. She saw her own reflection staring back—long black hair with purple highlights, dark eyebrows,

How far can they travel before you lose them?” Kiral asked the shaman, who seemed puzzled by the question.

outside her mother’s old bedroom, wielding spiky spears and magic staffs. They nodded to her as she opened the door. “Remember,” said one, “never touch the mirror.” “I remember,” she said. The room was

she’d done her best to block it out. Back then, the future had