Grace Draven Quotes & Sayings

They laughed together then until the woman's features turned somber. "Thank you for not lying about what you thought of my appearance. You might have a face to turn my hair white, but your honesty is handsome. — Grace Draven

He loved her to the point of madness, to obsession and even sacrifice. He wasn't Berdikhan, and he wouldn't make her Zafira. He'd rob her of her Gift, but she'd live. If he had to destroy Corruption, Conclave and himself, she'd live. — Grace Draven

She made him strong; she made him weak, and in that moment, she nearly put him on his knees. — Grace Draven

Such words only hurt when the person saying them means something to you. — Grace Draven

On a snowy winter morning, Martise of Neith - once of Asher - opened a gate and awakened darkness. — Grace Draven

Sleep here each day, Ildiko." A sweet warmth suffused her. She entangled her legs with his and hugged his arm to her waist. "As you wish. Just don't steal the blankets. — Grace Draven

The gelding held still when he took the reins, swung nimbly onto the horse's wide back and patted its withers. "You've grown fat on plains grass, Gnat. This journey will do you good."

Martise's eyes widened. "Gnat? His name is Gnat?" She stared at the mountain of horseflesh, heavily muscled and big-boned, with a girth that would make riding astride a challenge, and he stood at least seventeen hands high.

Gnat swung his large head in her direction, as if questioning her incredulity. Silhara stared down his nose, the expression made even more imperious by his high seat on the horse's back. "I didn't think 'Butterfly' suitable."

A betraying flutter rose in her throat. "No," she said, eyes tearing with the effort to hold in her laughter. "I suppose not. — Grace Draven

You have done an unwise thing, Martise of Asher," he said softly. "You've caught my interest. — Grace Draven

It'll be hard not to tease your folk sometimes."

Brishen couldn't imagine how she might go about such a thing. He had no idea if the Kai and the Gauri even knew the same jokes or found the same things funny. "What do you mean?"

He almost leapt out of his skin when Ildiko stared at him as both of her eyes drifted slowly down and over until they seemed to meet together, separated only by the elegant bridge of her nose.

"Lover of thorns and holy gods!" he yelped and clapped one hand across her eyes to shut out the sight. "Stop that," he ordered.

Ildiko laughed and pushed his hand away. She laughed even harder when she caught sight of his expression. "Wait," she gasped on a giggle. "I can do better. Want to see me make one eye cross and have the other stay still?"

Brishen reared back. "No!" He grimaced. "Nightmarish. I'll thank you to keep that particular talent to yourself, wife. — Grace Draven

A man with clear sight into his own soul will always make a wise decision. — Grace Draven

You make a very handsome dead eel, my husband,"
"For a boiled mollusk, you wear black quite well, my wife, — Grace Draven

Don't sing." He pointed a finger at her for emphasis. "You've scared my dog, my birds and my servant with your yowling." He paused. "You've even managed to scare me. — Grace Draven

Resting beside her, he seemed to Ildiko a living statue, carved from dark granite into a form of supple elegance and power. He was beautiful, and the tremor change in her perception of him robbed her lungs of air.
He opened both eyes suddenly, making her jump. Two shimmering gold coins stared at her unblinking. "Good evening, wife," he said in a voice raspy with the remnants of sleep. A closed-lip smile curved his mouth upward and deepened the tiny lines that fanned from the corners of his eyes. "You're staring. Do I have a fly on my nose?"
Fighting down a blush at being caught gawking at her own husband, Ildiko lightly tapped the tip of his nose with one finger. "I was trying to find a way to kill it without punching you in the face. Lucky for you, it flew away. — Grace Draven

A wash of relief poured through her, along with a kindling of hope. Her bridegroom wasn't Gauri; he wasn't even human. He was, however, congenial and gracious. She had proclaimed his appearance ghastly and his honesty handsome. Ildiko still stood by both opinions. She could have done infinitely worse. More than a few Gauri women had the misfortune to marry human men with handsome faces and ghastly souls. — Grace Draven

His eyes, usually as black and hard as obsidian were softer now, with the sheen of a crow's wing in sunlight. "You love me anyway," she teased.
"That's true," he said softly.
"Your weakness," she replied in equally quiet tones.
"No. My strength." They made love, this time without the power of their combined Gifts flowing hot between them, yet Martise would argue with anyone that its absence made no difference. There was sorcery aplenty in loving the one you held most dear. — Grace Draven

I've always been under the assumption that death is a one-time, encompassing event."

"Why would you ever think that? — Grace Draven

The art of negotiation favored not the one with the better odds but the one who could convince his opponents that his were the best odds. — Grace Draven

He didn't think it possible to sign sewage-sucking-excuse-of-a-baseborn-bilge-rat but somehow Gurn managed. — Grace Draven

Martise, lower your knife. There are more than a few people eager to carve out my heart. You'll have to take your place in line. — Grace Draven

Her eyes bothered him most. Unlike the Kai, hers were layers of opaque white, blue ringed in gray and black pinpoint centers that expanded or contracted with the light. The first time he'd witnessed that reaction in a human, all the hairs on his nape stood straight up. That, and the way the contrasting colors made it easy to see the eyes move in their sockets gave the impression they weren't body parts but entities unto themselves living as parasites inside their hosts' skulls.

He was used to seeing the frantic eye-rolling in a frightened horse but not a person. If the parasite impression didn't repulse him so much, he'd think humans lived in a constant state of hysterical terror. — Grace Draven

I'll sleep long and hard when I'm dead. You defy death by celebrating life." It — Grace Draven

I'm serious, Brishen. Promise me you'll not get yourself killed or maimed out there."
"I can't make that promise, Ildiko, but I can swear to do my best to come back with all arms and legs attached."
She frowned. "Your head too, if you please."
Brishen laughed then. "My head too. — Grace Draven

A companion," he whispered against her mouth. "A lover." He nibbled at her bottom lip, and his hand slid from her nape to cup the back of her head. "A beloved wife. — Grace Draven

Gained a little wisdom, did you?" "Age and experience do that for a person." "True. There should be some reward for creaking bones and gray hair." He — Grace Draven

Fear can be a good thing. It keeps you sharp and alert. It isn't a weakness when it benefits you. — Grace Draven

There's more."

"Of course there is," Brishen said flatly. It had started badly; it turned worse and hinted at becoming ruinous. — Grace Draven

She was halfway through the book, her eyes heavy with sleep, when the bedroom door opened. Brishen stood at the threshold, dressed down to undertunic and trousers, his feet bare and his hair damp. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. "Woman of day, you waited for me."

Ildiko closed her book and offered him a drowsy smile. Relief and happiness coursed through her. "Prince of night, you've come back to me - your head intact."

"I promised I'd try." — Grace Draven

He's enchanted with you, I think."

"He's annoying," Anhuset said on a growl. "And human." As if nothing could be more repulsive.

"I'm human." Ildiko pressed her lips together to hold back her laughter at the glare she received.

"You aren't winking at me or staring at my arse every time I walk past."

"Oh ho, you noticed that, did you?" Ildiko chose not to mention that she'd caught Anhuset eyeing Serovek's admittedly attractive backside more than a few times in return.

Anhuset gave a disgusted snort. "Brishen with both eyes patched would notice. His Lordship isn't exactly subtle. — Grace Draven

I'm certain I taste like a boiled potato," she declared. He — Grace Draven

While he disliked the idea of scaring her, ignorance had killed more than its fair share of people, and he wanted her aware of the danger. — Grace Draven

I don't need you on your back for anything Martise, unless you want to go star-gazing with me. — Grace Draven

He burned as if with fever, and she burned for him. — Grace Draven

What kind of piss is this?" he said when he caught a breath.

Louvaen frowned. "Probably something he made with the venom and scales of the worlds most evil viper."

"Oh, you have a twin? — Grace Draven

If anyone poisoned your drink, I'm not to blame." She bared her teeth. "This time." A hard swat on her shoulder made her jerk away. Cinnia glared at her, a blush dusting her cheekbones. "Lou, stop being so rude!" She offered a conciliatory smile to Ambrose. "My apologies, Ambrose. She's always been a scold in the morning." He huffed and raised his tankard in mock toast to Louvaen. "You must live a life of eternal morning. — Grace Draven

His warning amused her and revealed a hint of his unease in the upcoming meeting. How interesting that a man didn't always admire his own traits in another. — Grace Draven

I leave my heart and my kingdom in your capable hands, wife — Grace Draven

Raised in a brothel, I'd think such a sight common for you." He approached her slowly, his gaze caressing her as he drew close. "True." He drew a delicate pattern over her bare breasts and midriff. "But you aren't common, even if you do only have two breasts. — Grace Draven

You feel good in my arms," she said. — Grace Draven

I'm not desperate for a child, Ildiko. I'm desperate for my wife. That's it. No matter what you believe, you aren't lesser. Not to me. You are all. — Grace Draven

Come in, Martise." Silhara's voice was almost sibilant in the darkness as he tagged on her hand. "There are no soul eaters here."

No, she thought. Only heart thieves. — Grace Draven

He allowed himself a small chuckle then. "I will conquer kingdoms for you if you but ask it of me, Ildiko. — Grace Draven

How interesting that a man didn't always admire his own traits in another. The — Grace Draven

She was as different from her dazzling sister as night was to day. Ballard found it difficult to look at the younger girl for more than a moment at a time. Beauty such as hers blinded him, like looking directly at the sun. Louvaen though--he could happily drown in the dark Louvaen. — Grace Draven

Transfixed beneath the rays of a jaundiced star, he huddled against the crumbling parapet, fighting an evil the priests assumed long vanquished. — Grace Draven

Once his hair was smooth and free of mats, Martise ran the comb through it for sheer pleasure. He had beautiful hair, straight and black and falling to his waist. It spread across a strong back and wide shoulders, dampening his shirt to a transparent thinness. She slid her hand under its weight and caressed his nape with light strokes of the comb. His shoulders slumped, and he lowered his head in mute invitation for her to continue. He breathed deep, relaxing under her touch. Martise was anything but relaxed. She was on fire, recalling those moments in the library when he'd given her a taste of the passion burning within him. He was her dreams manifested, a bright and volatile star in a winter sky. — Grace Draven

I would have been content to live my life as just Brishen," he whispered into her hair. "Who was loved by Ildiko. — Grace Draven

Privilege," she said gently, "gives the crown its shine. Duty gives it its weight. — Grace Draven

She reached into a pocket of her tunic and brought out a small decorative box. She placed it on the table and slid it toward him. He squelched the urge to push it back. "I came to bring you this. It's yours." — Grace Draven

I can't accept this, my lord. Its too fine a gift, and I am no queen."

Ballard gently pushed it back to her. "You are, Louvaen. You're simply uncrowned. — Grace Draven

A kiss before I go, dragonslayer." He leaned in to capture her lips with his. — Grace Draven

He broke the kiss. "Say my name, Martise." He snarled the command, but she wasn't afraid. His hips rocked against hers, and she was impaled on his cock, reveling in his fierce possession. For a few brief hours, he was as much hers as she was his, and she could tell him how much he meant to her in a softly spoken name. Every desire, every craving, every forbidden wish - she infused into her voice. "Silhara." He gasped, a tortured sound, and his eyes rolled back. Martise clutched him to her as he shuddered, felt the sudden pulse of his shaft, his release followed by a wet heat as he came inside her. He hunched over her, chest heaving as he strove to breathe. She clasped his hips with her legs to maintain their connection, reluctant to give him up. He slowly lowered his weight onto her, careful not to crush her. — Grace Draven

A damsel in complete distress was a burden to her protectors; one familiar with self defence, not as much. — Grace Draven

Want to know when I first fell a little in love with you?"

"When I didn't faint from fright after meeting Secmis?" She'd come close, practically falling into Brishen's arms when they escaped the throne room.

"That was impressive. No cowering subject before her, but no." He tugged the blanket over her shoulder where it had fallen away. "It was when you ate the scarpatine and declared it tasted nothing like chicken."

She sniffed. "Then you're easily impressed. I don't think I fell in love with you just because you choked down a potato. Granted, you didn't have to engage it in battle before you ate it."

'You're hard to please."

She thumped his chest above his sternum. "I am not."

"Ouch." He rubbed the injured spot. — Grace Draven

He didn't stop, didn't linger to talk or greet those who called to him or begged him to wait.

His steward tripped and stumbled to his knees when he saw him. Brishen paused long enough to lift the man back up by his tunic and asked the most important question any man had ever asked of another. "Where's my wife? — Grace Draven

An excellent choice to pair the scarpatine with the potato, Your Highness. They are better together than apart. — Grace Draven

He snagged two more pieces of wood from her load for good measure. "Martise, bearing children is woman's work. Gurn and I would be sitting in the dark every night if we waited for some wandering female to pick up sticks for us. — Grace Draven

I'm not laughing, and I'm not running. I wont lie either. You're a chilling sight to behold. I've had nightmares of monsters prettier than you." She stepped closer and raised her other hand to thread her fingers through his hair. This time he didn't flinch away. "But you're still you under all this flux nonsense. Only a fool of a woman would run from such an extraordinary man, and I am no fool, Ballard de Sauveterre. — Grace Draven

Ildiko clutched his arm, unwilling to have him leave her side. "I enjoy your touch, Brishen."

The stiffness eased from his shoulders. He gave her a wry look and pressed his palm to the pale expanse of skin just below her collarbones. His hand rose and fell in quick time to her breathing. "I believe you, but this tells me you fear it as well."

She winced. "Your teeth are so...sharp."

"They are, but I'm not careless, wife. And if, for some unfathomable reason, I accidently bite you, you're welcome to bite me back."

His attempt at humor worked, and Ildiko chuckled. "Brishen - " She offered him a toothy grin. "These wouldn't do much damage."

He traced the line of her collarbones with the rough pads of his fingers, their dark claws a whisper of movement across her flesh. "You have obviously never been badly bitten by a horse. — Grace Draven

Ildiko had been tempted more than a few times to cross her eyes and watch their reaction.
"Don't even think about it, wife. You'll notice half of them are sharpening or cleaning their weapons. All I need is for someone to inadvertently slice themselves open because you startled them. — Grace Draven

She tried to imagine him as an elder Kai man, with hair turned silvery white instead of its current sloe darkness. He'd still be as handsome and regal as he was now. She chuckled under her breath, amused at the idea that she once thought him hideous.

One yellow eye peered up at her. "What amuses you, wife?" The question fell away to a moan as she rubbed his scalp.

"I was just thinking you are far too handsome for your own good."

"It's the scars," he said. "They give me a certain air. — Grace Draven

Ildiko tried to embrace him and frowned when he stepped out of reach, still retaining his hold on her hand.

"I'm filthy, wife, and need a bath of my own." His nostrils flared, and his voice lowered to a more guttural timbre. "Lover of thorns, but you smell good enough to eat."

She arched an eyebrow and glanced at the platters on the table. "Considering our people's respective histories, not to mention that wolf smile when you say such a thing, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or scream for help. — Grace Draven

Hello, pretty hag," he said.

"Wolf," she teased. "You look good enough to eat."

One of his eyebrows rose. "Why is it when I tell you that, you look ready to bolt for the door?"

She braced her hands on her hips. "I do not," she said, indignant. "At least not anymore. — Grace Draven

And will you love me for a day? A year? A lifetime?" She knew the answer but wanted to hear him say it in that beautiful, shattered voice.
"Beyond that," he whispered, eyes shining with the tempest of emotion he'd held in check until now. "Beyond the reign of false gods and meddlesome priests. Beyond al Zafira when her bright stars fade. — Grace Draven

When it was just he, Ildiko and Anhuset, his cousin rounded on him. "Are you trying to worry me into an early death?" she snapped.

"Stop henpecking me," he snapped back. "I have a wife for that, and even she doesn't do it."

Muffled laughter sounded next to him. Ildiko stared at them both with watery eyes and a hand clapped over her mouth. She lowered her hand and compressed her lips in an obvious effort to contain her mirth. "Sorry," she managed to gasp out between giggles.

Anhuset didn't share in her amusement. Her expression darkened before she bowed a second time. "I will see you both in the town square. — Grace Draven

My dear, treacherous mother," he breathed. "What have you done? — Grace Draven

see past the surface to the tides below. — Grace Draven

His rancor doesn't change the fact I had to close the breach no matter the cost." Brishen gazed at the human who once saved his life and called him friend. "You understand I wouldn't have altered anything had that been you instead of Megiddo?"

Serovek chuckled and batted away a demon with the back of his hand. 'I'd hope not. I didn't much relish the idea of being skewered, resurrected and thrown on a sham horse so I can chase demons all over the place. You ruining the entire plan because you had a fit of the vapors about sacrificing me wouldn't endear you to me. — Grace Draven

He pushed back his hood so she might see him as clearly as he saw her. "Wife of my soul," he said softly. She closed her eyes and sagged in his arms. "Oh gods, Ballard. I don't want to go. — Grace Draven

Brishen tried to pull her close, but she danced out his reach. "You'll muss my hair, and Sinhue will string you up by your guts if you ruin all her hard work. I'm terrified of even sneezing in case I do something to it and suffer the same death."

Brishen scowled, his expression both exasperated and puzzled. "Just wear a hat."

She refused to dignify the ridiculous suggestion with a reply. Men. — Grace Draven

You've flowers in you hair," she said. Tender amusement, instead of distaste, threaded her voice.

"That's because they're growing out of my head. — Grace Draven

This should never have happened, Brishen. We were unimportant, you and I. We weren't supposed to mean anything to anyone."
"Woman of day," he said slowly. "You mean everything to me. — Grace Draven

Did I please you?"
Silhara raised his head slowly to stare at her. High color flagged his cheekbones. His pupils swallowed the lighter black of his eyes. "Please me? You've vanquished me. — Grace Draven

Find your bed, Martise. I'll be up for some time. This is bandit country, and we'll each take a watch. Put your blankets with mine. We'll stay warmer that way. And keep your shoes on. I'll join you soon." She'd grown used to him curled against her in sleep. Even the light snores purred into her ear comforted her, and there was always the possibility that when he awakened, he'd want her beneath him. Or atop him. Martise blushed at the sensual images playing in her mind. She prepared their bed as he instructed, crawled under the blankets - with her shoes on - and fell asleep. She woke when Silhara slid beneath the blankets and spooned against her. He laid his arm across her waist and wedged his leg between hers through her heavy skirts. His sigh tickled her ear. "Far better if you were bare, but this will do. — Grace Draven

Martise blushed and lowered her eyes. "I meant no offense."

"Ah, another way to apologize. You have an impressive arsenal of conciliatory statements. I've known slaves less contrite than you. — Grace Draven

I'd challenge gods and queens to make you mine, Ballard. Conquer a kingdom or two if necessary. — Grace Draven

Had you crawled out from under my bed when I was a child, I would have bludgeoned you to death with my father's mace." Brishen — Grace Draven