This Woven Kingdom Quotes

I think I might fetch you the moon if only to spare your tears again.

Though if you mean to take me captive, you need only ask. I would come willingly.

I hate you," he whispered. "I hate everything about you. Your eyes. Your lips. Your smile." His words grazed her skin when he said, softly, "I find your presence insufferable.

What a strange girl you are...to behold a rose and perceive only its thorns, never the bloom.

God, you’re so beautiful,” he said, his smile vanishing. “Even when you lie to me.

Was it worrisome that he felt nothing but pleasure to be held at her mercy?

For she had learned long ago that when a home was not found it was forged. Indeed it could be fashioned even from nothing

You have consumed my thoughts since the moment I met you,” he said to her. “I feel now, in your presence, entirely strange. I think I might fetch you the moon if only to spare your tears again.

She saw an intensity in his stunning irises, something desperate straining against his control, and she swore in that moment she could almost feel his soul pressing against hers.

Take care, Cyrus," she chided him. "If you keep laughing like that, I'm liable to think you have a heart." "Oh, you needn't worry," he said, his smile fading. "I most certainly don't." The nosta went cold.

He was terrified she'd go and do something brutal, like smile at him.

Your name,” he said, and closed his eyes. He nearly fell over, catching himself at the last second. “I didn’t know your name for so long, angel. I love the way it feels in my mouth.

Angel,” he breathed. “My angel.

I would marry you,” he said, stepping closer again, coming dangerously within reach. “I’d marry you tomorrow. And then I’d take you to bed. For weeks.

Who do you wish to be? he asked the barely woven tapestry within himself. Let the threads and knots take form, crafting the picture within his mind. Starting small.

You have no idea what I want. I have been in agony for eight months, Alizeh. Do you know how hard it’s been to pretend I don’t know you? To pretend I don’t want you? To act as if I haven’t known every inch of your body in my dreams? To learn that your heart has been entangled elsewhere? I look at you and I can’t breathe. In my mind, you are already mine.

He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to hold her hand. He wanted to bring her tea and walk with her through the seasons. He wanted to watch her conquer the earth.

He came to life when she smiled, drew breath when her eyes brightened, died when she left a room.

You can’t lie to me forever, Cyrus. I’m going to find out the truth about you, and when I do, I promise you this: I’ll ruin him. I’ll make the devil regret the day he was born.

Alizeh was so powerful she claimed the devil as a friend, knew the sovereign of an enemy nation as an ally.

Oh, she had never feared death. No, it was life that scared her, life that scarred her. It was the slow torture of consciousness that had done its utmost to crush her.

Are you some kind of Diviner?” “No.” “A monster, then?” He almost smiled. “Don’t say you’ve been speaking with my mother?

I need you," he said roughly. "Don't run away from me." "How can you expect me not to run from you," said Alizeh, still trying to shake off her apprehension, "when you threatened just hours ago to have my eyes sewn shut?" He looked sharply away from her then, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "I shouldn't have said that." "And then you threw me off a cliff," she said, her voice a bit breathless even to her own ears. "You wouldn't stop threatening to kill me," he said angrily, turning back to face her. "I was merely trying to change the subject.

With all due offense, sire, please fuck off.

Fire was her soul, but water was her life; it was all she needed to survive

My kingdom," he said softly. "For your hand.

It occurred to him then, with a vague panic, that he'd follow her off a cliff if she were the one to lead him there.

He wondered if she had any idea what he'd do for her, the worlds he'd destroy for her.

You act as if I’m intentionally cruel. As if I’m indifferent to you.” “Aren’t you?” “No,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “Of course not.” Cyrus stared at her from where he stood, his chest heaving with barely leashed intensity. He devastated her with that look, even as he seemed planted in the ground, immovable. “Then be with me,” he said softly. “Let me worship you.

Did you really feel it necessary to add that last part?” “Which part?” “And I will not care,” she said, echoing his emotionless tone. “Do you enjoy being needlessly petty?” “Yes,” he said. “I do.

It is a dangerous thing to keep an intelligent woman from performing a single practical task,

I hate you,” he whispered. Alizeh blinked, her heart pounding too hard in her chest. “I know.” He leaned in then, his throat working, his gaze fixed entirely on her mouth. “I hate everything about you. Your eyes. Your lips. Your smile.” His words grazed her skin when he said, softly, “I find your presence insufferable.

What is your name?” “Of all the non sequiturs. Why do you need to know my name?” “So that I may hate you more informally.” “Ah. Well, in that case, you may call me Cyrus.” “Cyrus,” she said. “You insufferable monster. Where on earth are we going?

Fiction or not, she'd embedded inside him, replaced the air in his lungs. That she'd proven to be real--more exquisite than he'd dreamed--and entirely ignorant of him, had been more than he could bear.

But life cannot be experienced one emotion at a time. It is a tapestry of sensation, a braided rope of feeling. We must allow for reflection even when we suffer. We must reach for compassion even when we triumph. If you spend your days waiting for your sorrows to end so that you might finally live” – he shook his head – “you will die an impatient man.

You really do love her?" Cyrus said nothing. He didn't need to.

For as long as he lived he feared he'd know the scent of her, the sound of her walking toward him. She was a fool to think otherwise. He was a fool to think of her at all.

Cyrus," she said patiently, "you can't just ask a girl to marry you and then decline to answer a single question about yourself." "Try me.

God, you're so beautiful," he said, his smile vanishing. "Even when you lie to me.

This tremble inside him, this madness in his heart--it was all for her. All for her.

Though if you mean to take me captive, you ned only ask. I would come willingly.

All for you. Do you really not see what you’ve done to me? In a matter of days you’ve stripped me down and upended my world. My hours are in disarray, my future is in chaos, and my head—my head—

This living, breathing world was hers to admire for this single moment in time, and she wanted to breathe it in; to luxuriate in the beating heart of civilization.

I need your help, sleepy boy. Can you do something for me? "Anything.

Don't be afraid of me, angel. I won't hurt you. I'll never hurt you.

I want it all, angel. Not just your joy but your sorrow. Not just your hope but your fear, I want your anger and disdain, your frustration and contempt--

He laughed a little, like he was drunk. "I do say it a lot." "What?" she said, going briefly still. "Your name," he said, and closed his eyes. He nearly fell over, catching himself at the last second. "I didn't know your name for so long, angel. I love the way it feels in my mouth.

Here, between angry and irritable, lies my charming personality. It does not change. You may be grateful that I am consistent, at least, in being boorish.

What worlds he might be inspired to give up, he wondered, in the pursuit of knowing more of her mind.

What are friends for, if not to kill your enemies?

He might be driven to kill a man just to improve her view out a window. He might renege on the entire deal, just as the devil desired.

Should you marry me, it would be in title only. I have no interest in your companionship.” The nosta went cold.

Every night a new facet of his soul died for her.

The song of Lúthien before Mandos was the song most fair that ever in words was woven, and the song most sorrowful that ever the world shall hear. Unchanged, imperishable, it is sung still in Valinor beyond the hearing of the world, and listening the Valar are grieved. For Lúthien wove two themes of words, of the sorrow of the Eldar and the grief of Men, of the Two Kindreds that were made by Ilúvatar to dwell in Arda, the Kingdom of Earth amid the innumerable stars. And as she knelt before him her tears fell upon his feet like rain upon stones; and Mandos was moved to pity, who never before was so moved, nor has been since.

Cyrus had looked at her many times since she'd met him, and always with varying levels of intensity, but never quite like this. Never like he wanted to fall to his knees before her.

Her heart was beating so hard she could hardly hear her own thoughts. Cyrus had looked at her many times since she'd met him, and always with varying levels of intensity, but never quite like this. Never like he wanted to fall to his knees before her.

Alizeh,” he whispered. “Let me make you my queen.

He shook his head and took a deep, shuddering breath, unselfconsciously inhaling the scent of her. “Don’t be afraid of me, angel. I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.

He leaned in, so close that he could feel his whisper against her lips as he spoke. "Try to weaponize those eyes against me again and I will have them permanently sewn shut.

You must not resist life when it becomes inconvenient to live. You cannot outrun fear. You should not ignore pain. You will not outlive death.

It’s my own fault,” he said, and dragged both hands down his face. “I have only myself to blame. I knew better; I knew you were dangerous. You’ve had the upper hand from the moment I laid eyes on you. I saw you and saw right away that I was in hell, and I hated you for it, because I realized even then that you would be the end of me.

So beautiful I could hardly look at you, even in my dreams. I thought my mind had magicked you to life as an antidote to my nightmares. I never dared to believe you might exist in real life.

Never before had he been so consumed by the thoughts of anyone.

Fate, he thought bitterly, was only romantic when one was destined to be the hero.

Master yourself so that you will never be mastered. Know yourself so that you might live with conviction. Live with conviction so that your steps never falter.” He paused. “The mastery of self means never fearing the consequences of doing what is right.

Say you came back for me," he whispered. There was a thread of desire in his voice that threatened the good sense in her head, her very composure. "Tell me you came to find me. That you changed your mind." "How--how can you even say such things," she said, her hands beginning to tremble, "on an evening you are meant to choose another as your bride?" "I choose you," he said simply. "I want you.

Tell me your name," he whispered. Slowly, very slowly, Alizeh touched her fingers to his waist, anchored herself to his body. She heard his soft intake of breath. "Why?" she asked. He hesitated, briefly, before he said, "I begin to fear you've done me irreparable damage. I should like to know who to blame.

The constant, gnawing ache inside him---this pitiful need that grew only more fraught in the wake of every darkness that devoured him---he longed for her warmth, for her radiance.

Do I get one, too?” Cyrus frowned. “Would that… please you?” “Yes, I think so.” “All right.” He blinked slowly. “You can have a dragon.

He realized, with some despair, that everything would now remind him of her. The very sun and moon, the shifting of lightness and dark.

She didn't know how to describe this feeling, this breathless languor. No one had ever looked at her the way he did, as if the sight of her might be fatal. Her lips had parted under the weight of his silent want, her mouth growing heavy with the sound of his name and a desperate, foolish impulse to whisper the word against his skin.

If she hadn’t known it was fire beside her, Alizeh thought she might be convinced she was listening instead to the pitter-patter of a gentle rain; a staccato beat against the roof of her attic room. How bizarre, she found herself thinking, that elements so essentially different could ever sound the same.

When you suffer,” Rostam went on, “you can choose to endure, or you can choose to overcome.” He gestured around them, to the vast expanse of the meadow. “Here, even in the midst of your discomfort, there existed elements of relief, if only you had bothered to search.

...for she had learned long ago that when a home was not found, it was forged; indeed, it could be fashioned from nothing

Cyrus leaned in. “Relinquish the dream,” he said softly. “You have no hope of mastering me.

I think I might fetch you the moon if only to spare your tears again

I always thought you were some kind of an angel.

Master yourself so that you will never be mastered. Know yourself so that you might live with conviction. Live with conviction so that your steps never falter.

And I have a theory," she went on, "that if I were badly wounded, you would help me. True or false?" He went silent. He was silent so long Alizeh had time enough to watch a drop of dew drip off a glossy green leaf. "True or false, Cyrus?" She heard his uneven exhale, the raw edge to his voice when he said, irritably, "False." The nosta flashed cold. "Liar," she whispered.

You have consumed my thoughts since the moment I met you," he said to her. "I feel now, in your presence, entirely strange. I think I might fetch you the moon if only to spare your tears again.

You have no idea what I could give you," he said, his own eyes blazing. "You have no idea what I want. I have been in agony for eight months, Alizeh. Do you know how hard it's been to pretend I don't know you? To pretend I don't want you? To act as if I haven't known every inch of your body in my dreams? To learn that your heart has been entangled elsewhere? I look at you and I can't breathe. In my mind, you are already mine.

I fear you might regret saying that,” he said, even as he almost smiled. “Be warned, Kamran. The terms of our agreement are nonnegotiable. Lift a finger against her prematurely and I won’t hesitate to kill you myself.

Well. You remember how I said I owed our mutual friend a very large debt?” “Yes.” “And that helping you was the only repayment he would accept?” She swallowed. “Yes.” “And do you remember how I told you that he wanted you to rule? To be a Jinn queen?” Alizeh nodded. “Well. You have no kingdom,” he said. “No land to lord over. No empire to lead.” “No,” she said softly. “I don’t.” “Well, then. You are coming to Tulan,” Cyrus said, taking a quick breath. “To marry me.

He was drugged by this tender touch, by this searing heat that soothed him, each caress lulling him toward something that felt like home. He was safe here. With her.

More extraordinary was that her beauty was but a vessel, physical majesty forged for a soul so tender it defied description.

I haven't the slightest idea what we're doing," he said softly. "Though if you mean to take me captive, you need only ask. I would come willingly.

The sky, too, is soft,” she said. “Yet all who fall into its arms will perish.

Oh, she had never feared death. No, it was life that scared her, life that scarred her.

Do you really not see what you've done to me? In a matter of days you've stripped me down and upended my world. My hours are in disarray, my future is in chaos, and my head--my head--

Tell me your name," he whispered. Slowly, very slowly, Alizeh touched her fingers to his waist, anchored herself to his body. She heard his soft intake of breath. "Why?" she asked. He hesitated, briefly, before he said, "I begin to fear you've done me irreparable damage. I should like to know who to blame.

You think compassion costs nothing,” his grandfather said sharply. “You think sparing an innocent life is easy; that to do otherwise is an indication only of inhumanity. You do not yet realize that you possess the luxury of compassion because I have carried in your stead the weight of every cruelty, of every mercilessness necessary to ensuring the survival of millions.

I’ve been waiting,” said Cyrus, “for this to be over.” A spark of approval animated Rostam’s eyes. “And where have you waited, little one?” Quietly, he said, “In the future.” “Three hours of your life, lost.

Cyrus stared at her for a full second before he finally broke, and laughed out loud. "I tell you a single sad story and your defenses weaken that easily? Against me? You lovely little fool, you're going to get yourself killed." "Oh shut up." She crossed her arms.

...You've known from the first that I am yoked to a ruthless master, that in fact I sought you out under his orders, that I disrupted my life and dishonored my home and tore myself open at his behest, all for you." He swallowed. "All for you. Do you really not see what you've done to me? In a matter of days you've stripped me down and upended my world. My hours are in disarray, my future is in chaos, and my head--my head--" He turned away and grimaced, his fists clenching, and Alizeh thought her heart might stop. "And instead of being angry," he went on, "instead of driving you away, instead of wishing we've never met--I keep staring at that fucking cut on your neck, Alizeh, and I want to die.

Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. He was close now, his eyes bright, burning. She'd never seen such tightly restrained emotion in his face or in the lines of his body. His desire was so potent it was intoxicating; she felt herself tremble under the weight of it. He wanted to touch her--she knew this, she saw it in the rigid control he maintained over his hands, in the stiffness of his stance, in the way he moved incrementally closer until she saw nothing but him. His eyes dropped to her lips and his own lips parted, drew breath. He exhaled shakily. She worried that if she said a word, she might combust.

He only closed his eyes against her hair and fought the desperate crush of his chest, the violence of his affection for her. How she managed to disarm him even now, on the brink of death, he could not understand. She’d wept for his pain, wiped the blood from his eyes, taken an arrow in the back for him. She’d shown him more loyalty and tenderness in two days than he’d ever felt in his life, and he knew then, with a force that drove the air from his lungs, that he would never survive her.

Alizeh was no longer smiling. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might bruise. "What shall I say, then?" "Your name. I want to hear it from your lips." She took a breath. Released it slowly. "My name," she said, "is Alizeh. I am Alizeh of Saam, the daughter of Siavosh and Kiana. Though you may know me better as the lost queen of Arya." He stiffened at that, went silent. Finally he moved, one hand capturing her face, his thumb grazing her cheek in a fleeting moment, there and gone again. His voice was a whisper when he said, "Do you wish to know my name, too, Your Majesty?" "Kamran," she said softly, "I already know who you are." She was unprepared when he kissed her, for the darkness had denied her a warning before their lips met, before he claimed her mouth with a need that stole from her an anguished sound, a faint cry that shocked her.

More than that, he wanted to fall to his knees. This tremble inside him, this madness in his heart—it was all for her. All for her. He could hardly look at Alizeh without losing his mind; nearly four weeks he’d seen her only in his dreams, and he’d all but forgotten how finely wrought she was in real life, how delicate her features, how soft the curves of her cheeks. He came to life when she smiled, drew breath when her eyes brightened, died when she left a room. She’d smelled like roses. His roses.

What are you talking about?" she asked, alarmed. "You speak as if I harmed you-" He laughed then, laughed like he might be coming unhinged. "Of course you don't know. Why would you? How could you pssoibly know the truth? That you've been haunting me for so long-tormenting me every night-" "Cyrus, stop it," she said. "You're not being fair-I never even knew you-" "You don't understand," he said, tortured. "I've been dreaming about you for months.

We are falling back into allegory," said the Captain, interrupting him. "If you mean by all that that the body is the most solid of realities, then say so." "No, not exactly," Zeno explained. "This body, our kingdom, sometimes seems to me to be made of a fabric as loosely woven and as evanescent as a shadow. I should hardly be more astonished to see my mother again (who is dead) than to come upon you around a corner as I did, your face grown older and its substance recomposed more than once in twenty years' time, with its color altered by the seasons and its form somewhat changed, but your mouth still knowing my name. Think of the grain that has grown and the creatures that have lived and died in order to sustain that Henry who is and is not the one I knew twenty years ago.