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And they always slept better with blades beneath their beds.

Cinda Williams Chima

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Cinda Williams Chima
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Springfield
Ohio
Beneath
Bed
Better
Always
Beds
Slept
Blades

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But maybe it's better to go after something, and not get it, than to not even try.
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That's what happens when you love someone... you notice and notice and notice.
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My tagline is ‘Less sex, more romance, lower body count.’
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Just because you're the enemy of my enemy don't mean you're my friend, Han thought.
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He would find a way to make it work, because he finally understood that sometimes you have to raise your expectations. And sometimes you need to make a claim on the world and the people you love to get what you most desire
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Will you give the girl to me? she said. Will you let me try? He nodded, dizzy with relief. Please, Willo. Please. Save her. It doesn't matter...what happens to me.
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Ellen could have killed me, Jack said quietly, but she didn't. She saved my life. How come? Fitch demanded. After all this? Ellen turned scarlet and stared at the ground. Maybe none of my opponents ever gave me flowers before, she mumbled.
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The time will come when you will be forced to make a choice,” Hanalea said. “When that time comes, choose love.
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I have lost everything, Han thought. Then he corrected himself. Every time I think I’ve lost everything, I find there’s still something else to lose.
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History,' Mari muttered, as if she'd overheard his thoughts. 'Why do we need to know what happened before we were born?' 'So hopefully we get smarter and don't make the same mistakes again.
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Both Averill and Bayar were like actors speaking lines for their audience and not to each other.
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She had never felt more alive than when she lay dying in Han Alister's arms.
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There's something about a roof isn't there? It makes you feel like it doesn't matter what's going on below. All of those things that get in the way of your dreams - you're above them. Anything is possible.
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Han made no effort to put up a brave front. Most of the time he just screamed himself hoarse, though a couple of times he amused himself by screaming Fionas's name as if he were in the throes of passion. FEEE-OHHH-NAAA! Lord Bayar made him pay for that, but afterward, Fiona didn't come down anymore, which Han appreciated.
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A fiction writer is never entirely alone. Her characters are constantly whispering in her ear.
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She padded toward Han, barefoot, like a faerie startled out of a forest bower, bewitching mix of clan and flatland beauty.
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He keeps this up, he's bound to be caught, she thought. And this time they'll dangle him for certain.
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The only way to get what you want is to make them more afraid of you than they are of each other.
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Her clothes still smoked from the wizard’s assault. But to him, she always smelled of flowers.
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As for my family, my father was Danel he died as a mercenary in the southern wars, Han went on. My mother's name was Sarah, called Sali, and my sister was Mari. They died last summer. But then, you already knew that. Every time you forget, I'll remind you. That's the blood sacrifice I made to be here, and that's enough.
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