Realm Breaker Victoria Aveyard Quotes

Boys do stupid things to feel like men, no matter how old they are.

Only men can speak all day long and still think themselves silent.

I don’t belong anywhere,” Corayne said, her voice failing. To her surprise, Sorasa cracked a smile. “There are plenty of people like that,” she said. “And nowhere is still a somewhere.

Well, if you don’t belong to a place, perhaps we belong to each other? We who belong nowhere?” Sorasa offered. Her copper eyes glimmered, dancing with the light off the river.

We don’t choose what we’re born to, Corayne,” Erida replied. She touched the crown on her brow. “We can only walk the path put in front of us.

I have nothing to ask, and the world to offer.

History gorges itself on women raised high and then brought low by men grasping for their power.

I can't imagine living for a thousand years and still being so stupid...It's almost an accomplishment.

Sorasa tried to remember the last time she’d said thank you to a living person and meant it. Years, if not decades, she realized, racking her brain. Well, no use in breaking the streak now.

This is the best way out of here. To the horizon and beyond it. To whoever I am, in my bones.

Sorrow touched us all, Lord Donacridhan, whether we believe in it or not. It doesn’t matter what you call the thing ripping you apart. It will still devour you if given the chance.

Today, we fight for tomorrow.

Maybe we belong to each other, we who belong nowhere.

My love, you don’t know what you’re asking for.” Corayne narrowed her black eyes. “Oh, I think I do.

I know you don't believe in ghosts,' Sorasa murmured, holding her ground. 'But I do,' she said. His chest filled with an unfamiliar feeling, an ache he could not name. 'Sorasa,' he began, but the crowd surged around them. 'Haunt me, Domacridhan.

Only death would stop him. Only death would keep him from me.

His eyes met Erida’s like lightning finding the earth.

Even when it isn’t the end of the world, the realm is a dangerous place for women,

Her silence was her best quality. Perhaps her only good one.

You are a realm breaker, Taristan. You would crack this world apart and build an empire from its ruins.

Hammer and nail, the Companions are now seven, wind and gail, bound for hell or bound for heaven.

Our paths have already been laid, our fates written by godly hands. She only hopes the ink of their lives wove together for a little while still.

To those who seek and never find

What you learned in a palace, I learned better in the mud. — Taristan of Old Cor

I am ruler of Galland, but I am a queen, not a king. I must be careful in what I say, and what weapons I give my enemies. I will not give anyone cause to call me weak-minded or mad.

Now there is nowhere to go, and yet I keep walking forward. Into what, I do not know. And neither does anyone else.

The squire will march and fight and carry on until he drops. Until someone gives him permission to stand back, and be a little less strong.

I do not scowl,” Dom said, scowling.

She tasted blood too. The blood of Gallish soldiers, the blood of sea serpents from another realm. And, of course, her own blood. So much blood Corayne felt she might drown in it. But I am a pirate’s daughter, she thought, heart pounding. Her mother, the bronzed and beautiful Meliz an-Amarat, grinned in her mind’s eye. We do not drown.

I don't belong anywhere," Corayne said, her voice failing. To her surprise, Sorasa cracked a smile. "There are plenty of people like that," she said. "And nowhere is still a somewhere." "That's foolish." "Well, if you don't belong to a place, perhaps we belong to each other? We who belong nowhere?" Sorasa offered. Her copper eyes glimmered, dancing with the light off the river. Despite the ugly feeling in the pit of her stomach, Corayne found herself smiling too. "Perhaps," she echoed.

The Heir flushed and scowled. They shifted, planting their body between Charlie and the sacred circle of bronze, as if it were a child to be protected. “I’ll not hear blasphemy.” “You may cover your ears,” Charlie answered, before Sigil clapped a hand over his mouth.

You know so little of kingdoms and courts, Taristan.” Erica heaved a weary sigh. If only his demon lord would gift him some common sense.

Discord is a better shield than steel.

Certainly not," Corayne said. "Are you going to call me Spindlerot the entire time or just today?" "I'm still deciding.

If Valtik is going to rhyme, you can't start talking in riddles, Sorasa," she said, exasperated. "I refuse to save the realm under these conditions.

Men are so unsuited to power.

Sorasa spat heartily, her aim true.

It tolled in answer, as if a bell could do such a thing.

It is good to know your own measure.

It is easy for me to claim what is already broke, and Taristan was broken long ago. But not you. Somehow, even now, I see no cracks in you." Raising her head, Corayne narrowed her eyes at the shadow. "And you never will.

She tried not to think of the men she’d killed. Their faces came anyway, haunting in her memory. “How many?” she said, her voice trailing off. Corayne didn’t expect Andry to understand the broken musings of her mind. But pain crossed his face, a pain she knew. He looked beyond her, to the bodies in green and gold. He shut his eyes and bowed his head, hiding his face from the desert sun. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I will not count.” I have never seen a heart break before, Corayne thought, watching Andry Trelland. He wore no wounds, but she knew he bled within. Once he was a squire of Galland who dreamed of becoming a knight. And now he is a killer of them, a killer of his own dreams.

Orleon trembled with rage, his face matching his burgundy surcoat. He had no skill in hiding his emotions, and Erica knew exactly why. He is a man. His emotions are not considered a burden or a weakness. Not like mine, which I must keep hidden, so men might feel a little less threatened and a little more strong. Her fingers curled until she felt her own nails dig into her palms. Part of her wanted to claw Orleon’s red face right of and give him a mask to wear all the time, as she had to.

No amount of squiring had prepared him for a girl like Corayne. Noble ladies, perhaps, shy behind their hands or scheming in their silks. But not the girl in front of him, with a sword on her back and maps in her pockets, the starless night in her eyes.

That was unkind," Sorasa said in a flat voice, without judgement. A simple statement of fact. Sigil shrugged. "No one pays me to be kind." At Corayne's shoulder, Andry leaned, closing the distance between them. "She might be harsher than Sorasa," he said out of the corner of his mouth. At the rear of their line, Dom scoffed. "I did not realize there was a competition for worst personality," he crowed. Sorasa didn't hesitate. "It's not a competition with you around, Elder." On the road, Charlie jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, his discomfort forgotten. "Do all immortals have sticks up their asses or just him?" Their joined laughter carried through the Larsian fields, rustling the tall grass. To Corayne's delight, even Dom's lips twitched, betraying a smile.

I am not brave.” Don ran a hand over his face, feeling his scars. The skin was hard and puckered. He would never be the same as he was before the temple. And history was about to repeat itself. “I am angry, saddened, frustrated—all things but brave.” “I disagree.

As in Gidastern, something came over Andry Trelland. Before he knew it, her gloved hand was at his mouth, his lips brushing over her knuckles. She did not pull away, only staring, holding his gaze. For a moment, only her eyes existed, a black sky. He wanted to fill it with blazing stars. "Hold on to afterward," he said to her hand. "Whatever your afterward is, hold on to it.

I see anger in you, Princess,” Kesar said softly, hesitant. Tentative as a traveler walking across broken ice. Ridha sighed, her chest rising and falling beneath her furs. “There is gratitude in me too,” she murmured. “So much it is almost overwhelming. To you, to Dyrian, even to the cold Lady of Kovalinn. For ignoring my mother. For refusing to leave the Ward to it’s dark fate. For all of your who refuse to surrender.” The air froze on her teeth. “I will not surrender either.

There’s still time,” Charlie breathed. He drummed his fingers on the table. Sigil looked at him sidelong, scoffing. “And how do you know that?” The priest shrugged, settling back in his chair. He interlaced his hands over his belly, like a man satisfied with a good meal. “The Spindles hold up the realms. We aren’t dead yet, so that’s something.” “That’s something,” Sigil echoed, shaking her head. We aren’t dead yet. Corayne almost laughed, and the many long days of travel and toil seemed to crash all at once, a terrible wave. The sea serpents, the horses, the oasis town filled with nothing but ghosts now. We aren’t dead yet, she thought. Weave that into a tapestry, for it seems to be the core thread of this journey.

To his surprise, Sorasa moved with him. She looked straight ahead, refusing to meet his eye. Instead, she fussed with the chain mail beneath her jacket, trying to adjust the metal rings. Clearly she despised it, her usually fluid motions slower and more stilted. He opened his mouth to taunt her, to say anything, to grasp one more second at her side. “Thank you for wearing armor,” he growled. It was the only thing left to say. He expected a quick, poisonous retort. Instead, Sorasa looked up at him. Her copper eyes wavered, filled with all the emotion she no longer cared to hide. “Iron and steel won’t save us from dragon fire,” she said, all regret, her mouth barely moving. Again, Dom wanted to stay, lingering one last moment, his eyes locked on her own. “I know you don't believe in ghosts,” Sorasa murmured, holding her ground. She did not move closer, or move at all, letting the crowd of Elders break around her. A Vedera who falls in this realm falls forever, Dom thought, the old belief a sudden curse. Sorasa’s eyes shimmered, swimming with tears she would never allow herself to shed. She looked like she did on the beach after the shipwreck, torn apart by grief. “But I do,” she said. His chest filled with an unfamiliar feeling, an ache he could not name. “Sorasa,” he began, but the crowd surged around them, his Vederan soldiers too many to ignore. Every part of him wanted to stay rooted, though he knew he could not. She would not reach chin, her hands pressed to her sides, her chin raised and jaw set. Whatever tears she carried faded, pushed down into the unfeeling well of an Amhara heart. “Haunt me, Domacridhan.” The tide of the army swelled before he could muster an answer. While Sorasa stood against it, Dom let himself be carried. While his body marched, his heart stayed behind, broken as it was, already burning. Her last words followed him all the way down to the city gates.

The Amhara has great need for those who can pass unseen, and who is more unseen to men than a woman?

Andry’s natural instinct was to swallow his retort, to bury rough words. To find a gentler way. But the road had ways of changing a person, especially the road they were walking now.

If you were expecting a warm welcome from one such as Eyda, you were mistaken.” “Clearly.” The Lady of Kovalinn still stood the walls, staring out into the long craggy jaws of the fjord, toward the Glorysea. “She seems to be made of stone.” “She is Glorianborn.” Kesar’s joyful air faded a little, and a grim shadow Ridha recognized passed over her face. “We are graver than you children of the Ward.” Ridha tasted bitterness on her own tongue. The light of different stars, she thought, remembering her mother and how she used to glare at the sky, as if she could will the stars of Glorian to replace the stars of the Ward. “I know that more than most.

Such is the way of mothers, to think the sun and the moon of their children.

I began this day on one battlefield, and now I stand on another entirely. She certainly felt like a soldier, fighting with wits and intelligence instead of a sword. A sword is far more simple.

The sea will conquer even mountains, given the time.

Andry joined him, standing with a shake of his head. "Sorrow touches us all, Lord Domacridhan, whether we believe in it or nor. It doesn't matter what you call the thing ripping you apart. It will still devour you if given the chance." "And how do I defend against such a thing, Squire?" the Elder demanded, his voice rising. Luckily, Corayne did not stir. "How do I fight what I cannot face?" In the training yard, the knights would bash their gauntlets, clutch hands, pull each other up after a particular nasty blow. Without thinking, Andry raised his own fingers, palm open, an offer as much as a plea. "With me," he said. "Together.

Corayne suspected he would care very much. After all, Sorasa had called him a stupid, stubborn ass. Although, she thought, my translation might not be accurate. The Ibalet words for stupid and handsome are quite similar.

Sorasa braced bloody hands on her hips. "She's seen our faces and she won't stop rhyming. We need to kill her." "I don't think that can be the solution to every obstacle," Andry said weakly.

I am not brave.” Dom ran a hand over his face, feeling his scars. The skin was hard and puckered. He would never be the same as he was before the temple. And history was about to repeat itself. “I am angry, saddened, frustrated—all things but brave.” “I disagree.

Her eyes were unremarkable, black all the way through, flat and empty as a starless night. Inscrutable, distant. As Corayane felt apart from the world, her eyes showed it.

Half of Corayne thought this stupid; the other half, impossible. But both sides were also in agreement. This is the best way out of here. To the horizon and beyond it. To whoever I am, in my bones. “So how do we…save the realm?” She said. It sounded ridiculous out loud.

Corayne suspected he would care very much, After all, Sorasa had called him a stupid, stubborn ass. Although, she thought, my translation might not be accurate. The Ibalet words for stupid and handsome are quite similar.

Amhara Fallen. Forsaken. Broken, Osara.

The Elders took my brother to Iona and made him there. The rest of the world made me.

Harrsing grinned in approval. “The Crown Council is with you.” Until they aren’t. Erica knew. Until they find someone else they’d rather stand behind.

I dont belong anywhere, “ Corayne said, her voice failing. To her surprise, Sorasa cracked a smile. “There are plenty of people like that, “ she sad. “And nowhere is still somewhere.” “That’s foolish.” “Well, if you dont belong to a place, perhaps we belong to each other? We who belong nowhere?” Sorasa offered. Her copper eyes glimmered, dancing with the light off the river.

Taristan followed after her, resplendent in imperial red, a son of Old Cor in image as well as blood. He looked far from the man she’d met in the throne room, his muddy cloak exchanged for silk and brocade. But the soldier’s edge remained. No amount of finery could hide his lethal heart.

And there was nothing the commons loved so much as a wedding, the splendor of a life they could not fathom brought close for a heartbeat. Joy, as false as it might be, was difficult to resist.

Even so, Dom felt Taristan breathing down his neck again, his voice hateful and gloating. Shall I kill her in front of you too? The leather of the reins cracked between Dom’s hands, threatening to tear. He wanted to do it, to feel something break that wasn’t his own heart.

There are breakers of castles, breakers of chains, breakers of kings and kingdoms,” she said, her voice iron. “You are a realm breaker Taristan, You would crack this world apart and build an empire from it’s ruins.

Pale with fear to with frustration, Dom had no ideia. Mortals are impossible to fathom, especially Sorasa Sarn.

Sometime past midnight, the two men did try to rob her. She sent them both out the open window.

Death avoids us, but it's not a stranger.

Why bother reaching out a hand for what could disappear before you grasp it?

They adore her, Corayne knew. It was easy to see the love the Gallish court held for their young queen. Will they love her tomorrow, when she sends their children to war against a madman and a devil?

The New Palace had been a home, a sanctuary, a school, a training yard. Now it was a prison, a hunting ground, an executioner's block.

Even when it isn't the end of the world, the realm is a dangerous place for women.

Take your sword and bleed for me, and I will bleed for you. Win us the crown our ancestors could only dream of.

All these months, Sigil was a wall behind her, someone to lean on, as close to a trustworthy friend as Sorasa had. After almost losing her in Gidastern, farewell felt like salt in a still-bleeding wound. But Sorasa respected Sigil too much to embarrass her with goodbyes. Our paths have already been laid, our fates written by godly hands. She only hoped the ink of their lives wove together for a little while still.

Somehow, clad in her nightclothes, surrounded by ashes, Erida still played the part of imperious queen. "Even I know immortals can burn," she said. "So long as you burn with me, I die well.

No, not love. They will never love us." She shook her head at the court, despairing of the Madrentines as any good daughter of Galland would. Her voice dropped, her eyes flicking over Taristan again. "But they must respect you. Let them live. Let them see what a queen you are. How much better you are than the soft kings who came before, who sat this throne and did nothing but drink wine and write poetry." Harrsing's fingers tightened on Erida's arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Show them what real power is.

Real power. Erida felt it flowing through her veins now, as if drawn from the throne beneath her and the crown on her brow. It was more seductive than anything and anyone the Queen had ever know. She wanted more of it, but beyond that, she wanted to keep it.

I'd rather cut a man's throat than hold his hand.

We Amhara are not meant to be remembered. We kill and we disappear. We don't stand around and beg for praise." "Well, you'll be the first, then." Dom said, matter-of-fact. She pursed her lips, confused. "The first?" He only blinked at her, as if the answer were obvious. "The first Amhara remembered.

So much of the world rests on the shoulders of two young women, with men squawking at our edges.

The fire Taristan spoke of licked up inside her, consuming her pain, turning it into something she could use instead. Anger. Fear. Anything but sorrow.

You'd think I'd be used to this by now." "Sorasa?" "Death," Dom clipped. "Though I supposed they are interchangeable.

We have a long road ahead of us, Dom. Make ready for it.” Much as she tried to hide it, Dom saw the exhaustion creep over her. He felt it too, heavier than anything he’d ever carried. It ran bone-deep now, after so many months. Only moving forward kept it at bay. Dom did not know what to do now, when he could run no further, and do nothing but wait. “Where does that road go?” he asked bitterly. Slowly, he unbuckled the belt around his hips, and laid down the greatsword among Sorasa’s things. She sat on the cramped bed, if only to give him room to move around the narrow cabin. “Your guess is as good as mine,” she huffed. “Better, probably.” He quirked a blond brow at her. “How so?” “You have good hearts, you and Corayne. You think differently than I can.” “Is that a compliment?” he asked, confused. Her laugh was menacing as she leaned back against a meager pillow, her eyes half-lidded. “No.

What would anyone give to earn their destiny? To rule their fate?” he pushed on, shaking his head. “Imagine you are not queen of all you see, but still feel that power in you, just waiting to be grasped? What would you give to take it?” Erida did not need to think long. She felt sick and determined, all at the same time. “Anything.

There is much I cannot say, Bella,” she muttered. Harrsing touched her gently. “You are afraid.” Blinking, Erida weighed her response. The candles flickered and she sighed. There was no use in lying. “I am,” she admitted. For so many reasons. To her surprise, Harrsing only shrugged, her narrow shoulders rising and falling beneath the swoop of her nightgown. “That is necessary.” Erida could not help but balk. “What?” The old woman shrugged again. “Fear is not so terrible as we make it out to be,” she said. “Fear means you have a head on your shoulders, a good one. It means you have a heart, as much as you try to hide it from the rest of us.” Like Erida, Lady Harrsing had her own mask, shaped from decades in the royal court. She let it slip to show a smile of her own, warmer and softer than a candle. It made Erica’s heart twist. “A king of queen without fear would be a horrific thing indeed,” she added with a scoff. Erida could not agree. Her own fears seemed endless, looped around her neck in an unbreakable chain. She wondered what it would mean to be free of her misgivings and worst thoughts. To be so strong as to be beyond fear itself. Where only glory and greatness remained. Lady Harrsing arched an eyebrow, watching the Queen. “To be feared is another thing entirely.” “That is necessary too,” Erida replied swiftly.

Fear is not so terrible as we make it out to be,” she said. “Fear means you have a head on your shoulders, a good one. It means you have a heart, as much as you try to hide it from the rest of us.

Her own fears seemed endless, looped around her neck in an unbreakable chain. She wondered what it would mean to be free of her misgivings and worst thoughts. To be so strong as to be beyond fear itself. Where only glory and greatness remained.

Trust us as much a weapon as anything else.

Trust is as much a weapon as anything else.

It’s all right to get things wrong,” he said. “It’s how we learn to do things properly.

What kind of god allows such times as these?” Shuddering, Dom went cold, despite the sunlight and the warm southern breeze. “It is not only a god who brings about this doom,” he said. “But the heart of a mortal man.

You are odder than I expected,” she chuckled. He quirked a brow at her. “And what did you expect?” The pirate captain paused, licking her lips. “Someone colder,” she finally said, looking him up and down. “Made of stone instead of flesh. Less mortal. Like all the things Cortael tried to be.” The wind blew over the harbor again, smelling of salt. He turned into it, facing the docks and little ship. A familiar figure ran its deck, checking the rigging, though she was no sailor. It was not like Sorasa Sarn to remain still. Dom heaved a breath. “I was that way once.” The shadow of a smile crossed Meliz’s face as she followed his gaze. “Love does that.” His throat tightened and his jaw clenched, teeth gritted so tightly Dom could not speak if he tried. Meliz only gave a wave of her hand. “I’m referring to my daughter and the love you bear her.” Her grin widened mischievously. “Of course.” “Of course,” Dom managed, wrenching his eyes away from the port. His entire body felt hot with embarrassment, if not indignance.

Fear threatened to swallow her up. It clawed at her inside, a beast with too many teeth. Do not let it rule, she told herself, repeating the old Amhara teaching. Do not let it rule. Do not let it rule. She refused to think beyond the world in front of her. Refused to let her mind spiral with hideous possibility. It was a hole she would never dig out of.

What Wait hangs heavy over us all, it seems,” the Heir added, shaking their head. “And heaviest on Corayne.” Charlie shrugged beneath his furs, cursing the realm. “It isn’t fair.” Isadere of Ibal, born royal and holy, have him a withering, almost pitying look. “When have you ever known the world to be fair, Priest?” “True” was all he could muster, watching the last rolls of thunder, and wretched lightning.

Not that I understand the Spindle talk anyways. Other realms and demon lords. Corblood princes. Magical swords. Quite the mess you’ve put us in.” With another tsk, Charlie settled down next to him, tucking himself tight against the assassin. “If you recall, I was dragged into this against my will,” he muttered. Garion glanced at him sidelong, eyes sharp. “And you chose to stay in it.” “I did,” Charlie replied, thoughtful. As much for himself as for Garion. His voice softened. “I chose to do something with myself, if only something small.” He expected Garion to laugh at him. Instead, the man held his gaze, his dark eyes melting. Their fingers brushed, then wove together. “Small things matter too,” Garion muttered, looking back to the sky. Charlie did not, memorizing instead the lines of Garion’s face and the feel of the sun on their joined hands. The smell of roses, and more rain, not yet fallen, but soon to come. “Yes, indeed.