Sarah J. Maas

“You have the skills,” Chaol said, “but some of your moves are still undisciplined.”“That’s never stopped me from killing before,” she spat.Chaol chuckled at her agitation and pointed his sword at the rack, allowing her to get to her feet. “Pick another—something different. Make it interesting, too. Something that will make me sweat, please.”“You’ll be sweating when I skin you alive and squish your eyeballs beneath my feet,” she muttered, picking up the rapier.“That’s the spirit.”She practically threw the rapier into place, and drew the hunting knives without hesitation.My dear old friends.A wicked smile spread across her face.”

“Enjoyed that, did you?" Chaol growled."Immensely." Celaena patted Chaol's arm as she took it in her own. "Now you must pretend that you like me, or else everything will be ruined.”

“I wasn't going to kill him, you buffoon.”

“After a too-long moment, the crown prince spoke. “I don't quite comprehend why you'd force someone to bow when the purpose of the gesture is to display allegiance and respect.” His words were coated with glorious boredom.”

“Libraries were full of ideas—perhaps the most dangerous and powerful of all weapons.”

“We each survive in our own way.”

“Sometimes, the wicked will tell us things just to confuse us–to haunt our thoughts long after we've faced them.”