Marie Rutkoski Quotes & Sayings

Well? Can we fight together?" It was the queen who said the word, but Roshar who made it real. He crossed the short space of the forge and placed one palm on Arin's cheek. It was the Herrani gesture of kinship. The queen smiled as Arin returned the gesture, and then the word came: beautiful, deadly, as small and hot as the hole in the kitchen door. In that moment, that word was all that Arin wanted. "Yes." * — Marie Rutkoski

Yet he understood that there are some things you feel and others that you choose to feel, and that the choice doesn't make the feeling less valid. — Marie Rutkoski

Arin kept company with death, but death was not all that lived inside him.
A girl in his heart. In his home.
Waiting for him. — Marie Rutkoski

It made him wonder which pain was greater: to give up something precious, or to see it taken away. — Marie Rutkoski

He tried to go over the plan with the captain, who interrupted him with a dismissive flick of the hand. "That's not a plan. That's simple piracy. You needn't teach me that."
Arin was taken aback. "Before the war, the Herrani were the best at sea. We gained wealth through sea trade. We weren't pirates."
The captain laughed and laughed. — Marie Rutkoski

Please understand. When I look at you as if you're crazy, it's not that I judge you for your insanity. — Marie Rutkoski

He struggled, knuckled his eyes, and let the words come. I want you to be mine, wholly mine, your heart, too. I want you to feel the same way. — Marie Rutkoski

Harder to know that her father had sent her here. Hard, horrible, the the way he had looked at her, disowned her, accused her of treason. She'd been guilty. She had done every thing that he believed of her, and now she had no father. — Marie Rutkoski

General Trajan's hand closed around the watch.
What a silly gift to give a man who led nighttime assaults where stealth could mean the difference between life and death. "Give it to me," Kestrel said. "I will find a nice convenient rock to drop it on."
The general smiled a little. "When the emperor gives you a gift, it's best to wear it. — Marie Rutkoski

He told himself a story. Not at first. At first, there wasn't time for thoughts that came in the shape of words. His head was blessedly empty of stories then. War was coming. It was upon him. Arin had been born in the year of the god of death, and he was finally glad of it. He surrendered himself to his god, who smiled and came close. Stories will get you killed, he murmured in Arin's ear. Now, you just listen. Listen to me. — Marie Rutkoski

Arin, you're not listening. You're not thinking clearly."
"You're right. I haven't been thinking clearly, not for a long time. But I understand now." Arin pushed his tiles away. His winning hand scattered out of line. "You have changed, Kestrel. I don't know who you are anymore. And I don't want to. — Marie Rutkoski

If you would like to know how easy it is to overlook evil, Petra could tell you: it is the easiest thing in the world. — Marie Rutkoski

Winter apple," Kestrel said. "Arin, you have been bribing my horse!"
"Me? No."
"You have! No wonder he likes you so much."
"Are you sure it's not because of my good looks and pleasing manners?" This was said lightly--not quite sarcastically, yet in a voice that nevertheless told Kestrel that he doubted he possessed either of these things.
But he was pleasing. He pleased her. And she could never forget his beauty. She had learned it all too well.
She blushed. "It's not fair," she said.
He took in her rising color. His mouth curved. — Marie Rutkoski

She had dreams that shamed her in the morning, dreams where Ronan gave her a white powdered cake, yet spoke in Arin's voice. I made this for you, he said. Do you like it?
The powder was so fine that she inhaled its sweetness, but always woke before she could taste. — Marie Rutkoski

How did you ever survive, little slave, with that mouth of yours? — Marie Rutkoski

The crowd cleared a path for them. They returned to their horses and mounted.
"See?" Roshar said, "wasn't that fun?"
Arin looked ready to shove the prince off his horse. — Marie Rutkoski

It dropped ice to the bottom of his stomach. He thought of the ruined bodies he'd seen, including the ones he himself had ruined. He realized that he had somehow expected that he'd never have to think again about the way people damage other people.
The night of the invasion. Kestrel's back. His own. Roshar's scarred face. His own. — Marie Rutkoski

Someone was coming through the velvet.
He was pulling it wide, he was stepping onto Kestrel's balcony - close, closer still as she turned and the curtain swayed, then stopped. He pinned the velvet against frame. He held the sweep of it high, at the level of his gray eyes, which were silver in the shadows.
He was here. He had come.
Arin. — Marie Rutkoski

My soul is yours," he said. "You know that it is. — Marie Rutkoski

Kestrel hadn't known until she saw her father's face how much she still loved him.
Wrong, that she felt this way. Wrong, that love could live with betrayal and hurt and anger. — Marie Rutkoski

You look better. Almost fit for society."
"I doubt that."
"Well, you're no longer feverish, are you? And the swelling in your face has gone down. You don't look quite so puffy. One more night of rest, Arin, and then it's back into the fray. You can't avoid the court forever. Besides, the reactions could be telling."
"Yes, stifled gasps and open disgust will be very informative. — Marie Rutkoski

Her fierce creature of a mind: sleek and sharp-clawed and utterly unwilling to be caught. — Marie Rutkoski

She saw, yet again, that her friend's compliments were just bits of art and artifice. They were paper swans, cunningly folded so that they could float on the air for a few moments. Nothing more. — Marie Rutkoski

Isn't that what stories do, make fake things real, and real things fake? — Marie Rutkoski

Arin smiled. It was a true smile, which let her know that all the others he had given her were not. — Marie Rutkoski

How do I look in the dark?"
Startled, Arin glanced at him. The question had had no edges. It wasn't sleek, either. Its soft, uncertain shape suggested that Roshar truly wanted to know. In the fired red shadows, his limbs looked lax and his mutilated face met Arin's squarely. The heavy feeling that Arin carried - that specific sadness, nestled just below his collar bone, like a pendant - lessened. He said, "Like my friend."
Roshar didn't smile. When he spoke, his voice matched his expression, which was rare for him. Rarer still: his tone. Quiet and true. "You do, too. — Marie Rutkoski

Isn't that ... isn't that what friends do? They change our perspective on the world. Part of why we care about them is because we love that feeling. The feeling of being changed. — Marie Rutkoski

She saw him and didn't understand how she had ever missed his beauty. How it didn't always strike her as it did now, like a blow. — Marie Rutkoski

Arin took the basket from her. "Coming or going?"
"I've a errand here, and won't be home until late."
"Shall I guess what brings you to town?"
"You can try."
He peeked in the basket. Bread, still warm from the oven. A bottle of liquor. Long, flat, pieces of wood. Rolls of gauze. "A picnic ... with a wounded soldier? Sarsine," he teased, "is it true love? What's the wood for? Wait, don't tell me. I'm not sure I want to know."
She swatted him. "The cartwright's oldest daughter has a broken arm. — Marie Rutkoski

I want better choices."
"Then we must make a world that has them. — Marie Rutkoski

She tried to imagine her former self. Enemy. Prisoner. Friend? Daughter. Spy. Prisoner again. "What am I now?"
Sarsine held both of Kestrel's hands. "What ever you want to be. — Marie Rutkoski

Everything in war hinges on what you know of your adversary's skills and asset. — Marie Rutkoski

I have a confession," he said. "Sometimes I offend on purpose. It's like my smile."
"That's not an apology."
"Princes don't apologize. — Marie Rutkoski

I pretty much always wanted to write a series, because I love reading them. — Marie Rutkoski

If she had to choose which aspect of the suite she despised most, it would have been a hard call between the lock and the garden, though these days she nursed a particular grudge against the curtains. — Marie Rutkoski

She reminded herself bitterly that this was what curiosity had bought her: fifty keystones for a singer who refused to sing, a friend who wasn't her friend, some one who was hers and yet would never be hers. — Marie Rutkoski

The truth can deceive as well as a lie. — Marie Rutkoski

They continued south. Arin kept his distance from her. Once or twice, she rode Javelin alongside his horse. It went badly. He didn't know how to fix himself. He couldn't accept this.
The first time she drew her horse up to him, he burst out "For god's sake, you don't even have armor."
"I know you're worried," she said quietly. — Marie Rutkoski

The beauty of the flute was in its simplicity, in its resemblance to the human voice. It always sounded clear. It sounded alone. The piano, on the other hand, was a network of parts - a ship, with its strings like rigging, its case a hull, its lifted lid a sail. Kestrel always thought that the piano didn't sound like a single instrument but a twinned one, with its low and high halves merging together or pulling apart. — Marie Rutkoski

His dark head bowed, became lost in its own shadow. — Marie Rutkoski

Her love for him closed within her like a fist. Nervous, bruised. She despised it. Wasn't it the love of a beaten animal, slinking back to its master? Yet here was the truth: she missed her father. — Marie Rutkoski

Kestrel saw a certain curiosity in the way they lingered. A waiting, a wondering.
"Deliah, what is it?"
"You haven't heard?"
"Heard what?"
Deliah fussed with the hem. "The Herrani representative has arrived."
"What?"
"He arrived this morning on horseback. He came through the pass in the nick of time."
"Take this dress off."
"But I'm not finished, my lady."
"Off."
"Just a few more--"
Kestrel tugged the fabric from her shoulders. She ignored Deliah's small cry, the pricks of pins, the thin chime of them scattering onto the stone floor. Kestrel stepped out of the dress, pulled on her day clothes, and rushed out the door. — Marie Rutkoski

Arin would trade his heart for a snarled knot of thread if it meant he would never have to see Kestrel again. — Marie Rutkoski

I don't want you to go." Waves rocked against the pier. The sun was too bright. Weathered boards creaked beneath Arin's feet.
"Only because you enjoy a good bully. Someone to make you behave as you ought."
"No, Roshar."
"You know well enough what to do now. You'll be fine."
"That's not why."
"Why you'll miss me? I admit that the impending absence of my keen wit would make anyone sad."
"Not exactly."
"Now I'm getting sad, just thinking about how it would feel to be parted from my sweet self. Lucky me: I will always have my own company."
"What you said at the banquet was true."
"Everything I say is true."
"That I love you."
Roshar's face went still. "I said that?"
"You know that you did."
"That was more for the drama of the moment."
"Liar."
"I am, aren't I?" Roshar said slowly. "I really am. Arin." His voice roughened. "You'll see me again."
"Soon," Arin told him, and embraced him. — Marie Rutkoski

Arin dreamed of Kestrel. He woke, and the dream faded like perfume. He didn't remember it, yet it changed the air around him. He blinked against the dark.
When he heard the sound, he realized he had been expecting something of this kind for a long time.
Light feet on the roof.
Arin scrambled out of bed. — Marie Rutkoski

She entered Roshar's tent. "I need your help." Blinking, he propped himself up on his bed. He said groggily, "And I need a real door. With a lock. — Marie Rutkoski

I remembered a numeric code. He could have been using counters to help him write in it."
"Or," said Roshar, "your father will read the note, see one code when he expects another, and will send someone to the station, where there's a dead body."
"If so," Arin said, "then we're no worse off than we were before."
"Oh yes, we are. The general will know the letter's a ploy, and will do the opposite of what we want. He'll ignore the main road. He'll take back roads through the forests where our guns would be of dubious use and we wouldn't have the advantage of height. You know this."
Arin shut his mouth, glancing uneasily at Kestrel. Yes. He had known this, as had she. She felt worse for his effort to make her mistake seem smaller. He knew its true size.
Roshar leaned back in his creaking chair. His eyes slid from Arin to Kestrel, black as lacquer, the green lines around them fresh. "Can you tell me anything more cheerful than all this? — Marie Rutkoski

A lovely fatigue claimed him. He lay down on the grass and listened. He thought about how Kestrel had slept on the palace lawn and dreamed of him. When she had told him this, he'd wished that it had been real. He tried to imagine the dream, then found himself dreaming. — Marie Rutkoski

Oranges were the prince's favorite fruit. He always peeled tem himself, and took some pleasure in tearing the bright skin away to expose the soft wedges within. He liked the spray of tiny citrus beads, he liked the tangy taste, and above all he liked that an orange is a fruit to be eaten piece by piece. — Marie Rutkoski

We can withstand a siege for some time," Arin said. "The city walls are strong. They're Valorian-built."
"Which means that we will know how to bring them down."
Arin swirled his glass, watching the water's clear spin. "Care to bet? I have matches. I hear they make very fine stakes." There was the quirk of a smile. — Marie Rutkoski

His dear face, dear to her, dearer still. how could she love his face more for its damage? What kind of person saw someone's suffering and felt her heart crack open even wider, even more sweetly than before?
There was something wrong with her. It was wrong to want to touch a scar and call it beautiful. — Marie Rutkoski

Let Arin surprise us," Roshar said. "That's how we do things. He comes up with something brilliant and I take the credit. — Marie Rutkoski

You will be lonely, but you'll become strong. — Marie Rutkoski

See how brave they are, whispered the memory of her father's voice. She'd been very young when he'd said this. Bright and still. Those stars are the kind of soldiers who stand and fight. — Marie Rutkoski

You should have let me visit earlier," Jess said, her cheeks radiant from the brisk air outside. "It's been a week since the duel."
Kestrel sank back against the pillows. She had known the sight of Jess would hurt, would remind her that there was a life outside this bedroom. "Ronan isn't allowed."
"I should say not! I'm not letting him see you until you're better. You look awful. No one wants to kiss an invalid."
"Thank you, Jess. I'm so happy you've come. — Marie Rutkoski

Temptation was the color white. It was black ink, quivering at the point of a pen's nib. — Marie Rutkoski

I wrote a letter to you when I was in the capital. So stupid, to put it all in writing. Every thing I'd done. The information I passed to Tensen. The way I worked against the empire. What I felt. My father read it. He gave it to the emperor." She was weeping. "And I know, I know that it hurt him, that I broke something, that he felt it break. Maybe I wasn't me anymore, to him. Do you understand? Not his daughter. Not anyone he knew. Just a lying stranger. But how could he? Why couldn't he love me most? Or enough. Why couldn't he love me enough to choose me over his rules? — Marie Rutkoski

Arin had taken position on the mountainside wall. He didn't see a ship enter the harbor.
But he saw a hawk--a small one, a kestrel--swoop over the city and dive toward the general.
The man pulled a tube from its leg and opened it. He went still.
He disappeared into the ranks of soldiers.
The Valorian army stopped its assault.
Then Arin's feet were moving along the wall, racing to face the sea, and although he couldn't have said that he knew what had happened, he knew that something had changed, and in his mind there was only one person who could change his world.
Another hawk was perched on the seaside battlements. It eyed him--head cocked, beak sharp, talons tight on stone. Snow laced its feathers.
The message it bore was short.

Arin,

Let me in.

Kestrel — Marie Rutkoski

She would never give him her dagger. "I tried so hard to live in your world," she told him. "Now it's your turn to live in mine. — Marie Rutkoski

Kestrel." The general touched her shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically hesitant."It's every child's duty to survive her parents. My profession isn't a safe one. I would like- Kestrel, when I die, do not mourn me."
She smiled. "You do not command me," she said, and kissed his cheek — Marie Rutkoski

He'll behave. He has a mien and manners of a prince."
"Oh, like you?"
"I resent your tone."
"I'm not sure you can control him."
"Has he ever aught but the gentlest of creatures? Would you deny your namesake the chance to bear witness to our victorious celebration? And, of course, to the vision of you and Kestrel: side by side, Herrani and Valorian, a love for the ages. The stuff of songs, Arin! How you'll get married, and make babies
"
"Gods, Roshar, shut up. — Marie Rutkoski

Now I'm getting sad, just thinking about how it would feel to be parted from my sweet self. Lucky me: I will always have my own company. — Marie Rutkoski

It was the kind of knowledge that, once it enters you, seems like it's lived there forever. — Marie Rutkoski

She struggled not to show this. Already, that dream on the grass had faded in her memory. It was as if she'd worn it out by thinking too much about it. But in the moment, it had felt so real. Kestrel couldn't quite believe that it hadn't been. — Marie Rutkoski

Logic is a game, came the memory of his father's voice. Let's see how you play — Marie Rutkoski

But finally, when they stopped to sleep, not bothering with a tent, just bedding down in a hollow they'd trampled in the tall grass with their boots, Arin spoke. He slid a hand under her tunic to touch her bare back, then stopped. "Is this all right?"
She wanted to explain that she hadn't thought she'd ever bear anyone's touch on her scarred back, that it should revolt him and revolt her. Yet his touch made her feel soft and new. "Yes."
He pushed the shirt up, seeking the lash marks, tracing their length. She let herself feel it, and shivered, and thought of nothing. But a tension grew. He was still, but for his hand.
Kestrel said, "What's wrong?"
"Your life would have been easier if you had married the Valorian prince."
She drew herself up so that she could face him. The scent of black powder clung to them both. His skin smelled like a blown-out candle. "But not better," she said. — Marie Rutkoski

Of course having a baby derails the writing process for some time. And I will be the first to say that I have essentially no social life, because there's just nothing left after being a mom, professor, and writer. I used to be big into rock climbing. No more. A lot falls by the wayside. — Marie Rutkoski

Arin instinctively touched his cut cheek and winced. Then he grit his teeth. His face wasn't his face anymore, but so what? Maybe it suited him. Maybe Arin had been too soft, too trusting, too baby-skinned, too much like that boy he'd been before the war, the one who had made him turn back to find Kestrel standing by the moonlit canal.
Arin was glad that boy was gone. He was glad to be someone new. — Marie Rutkoski

Her blood felt laced with black powder. How could she have forgotten what it was like to burn on a fuse before him? — Marie Rutkoski

A singer who refused to sing, a friend who wasn't her friend, someone who was hers and yet would never be hers.
Kestrel looked away from Arin.
She swore to herself that she would never look back — Marie Rutkoski

Come closer, and I will tell you.
But he forgot. He kissed her, and became lost in the exquisite sensation of his skin becoming too tight for his body. He murmured other things instead. A secret, a want, a promise. A story, in its own way. — Marie Rutkoski

He had sleepless eyes, his mouth a little swollen, the deeply tanned skin somehow burnished. Kestrel thought that she, too, must look like this: polished by desire, the way a river stone holds a luster from having been made so smooth. — Marie Rutkoski

I do admire your love for a gamble." He took her cup and drank from it as well. "I was simply thinking out loud earlier. There's no harm in thinking."
"I have my own thoughts. I am wondering why my father ever respected you. — Marie Rutkoski

Nothing in dreams can hurt you, her father had said - which was another way of saying that life can. — Marie Rutkoski

He knew how it was to have no family: like living in a house with no roof. — Marie Rutkoski

Stories," she blurted. "The mosaic told stories, didn't it?"
"Yes, old ones."
"I'll tell them to you."
His eyes cracked open. He didn't remember closing them. "You know those tales?"
"Yes."
She didn't. This became clear as she began to tell them. She knew bits and pieces, cobbled together in ways that would have made him smile if smiling didn't hurt. "You," he breathed, "are such a faker."
"Don't interrupt."
Mostly pure invention. She remembered the images--it pleased him, how vividly she knew the temple floor's details. Which god curled around which, or how the snake's tongue forked into three. But the stories she told had little to do with his religion. Sometimes they didn't even make sense.
"Do this again," he said, "when I have strength to laugh."
"As bad as that?"
"Mmm. Maybe not. For a Valorian. — Marie Rutkoski

An emotion clamped down on her heart. It squeezed her into a terrible silence. But he said nothing after that, only her name, as if her name were not a name but a question. Or perhaps that it wasn't how he had said it, and she was wrong, and she'd heard a question simply because the sound of him speaking her name made her wish that she were his answer. — Marie Rutkoski

It looked like she held a basketful of woven gold.
Arin leap down the stairs. He strode up to his cousin and seized her arm.
"Arin!"
"What did you do?"
Sarsine jerked away. "What she wanted. Pull yourself together."
But Arin only saw Kestrel as she had been last night before the ball. How her hair had been a spill of low light over his palms. He had threaded desire into those braids, had wanted her to sense it even as he dreaded that she would. He had met her eyes in the mirror, and didn't know, couldn't tell her feelings. He only knew the fire of his own.
"It's just hair," Sarsine said. "It will grow back."
"Yes," said Arin, "but no everything does. — Marie Rutkoski

The general's daughter? We'd be fools not to. You talk about her as if she's made of spun glass. Know what I see? Steel. — Marie Rutkoski

It was different to give something up than to see it taken away. The difference, Kestrel said, was choice. — Marie Rutkoski

The emperor leaned back in his seat. His cup of chocolate steamed, veiling his face as he tipped his chin and studied Kestrel with a slanting gaze.Very neat of you, Lady Kestrel. You solve all my worries. You hand me the plains for the low price of poison. How nice that you minimize our enemy's civilian casualties at the same time. — Marie Rutkoski

She felt suddenly light and sheer, as if this moment were encased in golden glass — Marie Rutkoski

When Roshar saw her ripped, one-legged trousers and Arin at her side as they stood outside the prince's tent, his eyes glinted with mirth and Kestrel felt quite sure that the prince was going to say it was about time Arin tore her clothes off. Then Roshar might comment coyly on Arin's inability to reach a full conclusion (Only one trouser leg? she imagined Roshar saying. How lazy of you, Arin), or on the quaint quality of Arin's modesty (What a little lamb you are). Perhaps he'd offer condolences to Kestrel on the partial death of her trousers. He'd ask whether she'd gotten injured on purpose. — Marie Rutkoski

He knew the law of such things: people in brightly lit places cannot see into the dark. — Marie Rutkoski

A slow fear, heavy, like sadness ... which made her realize that her fear was a kind of sadness, because she couldn't be better than her fear. — Marie Rutkoski

She was learning to live around it. — Marie Rutkoski

For many, many years, I thought that I wasn't good enough or that I would never be able to create something that could touch other people the way books have touched me. There's nothing better than having a lifelong dream come true. — Marie Rutkoski

The world went luscious, and slow, and still. — Marie Rutkoski

As he spoke, it occurred to her that maybe he, too, felt like two people, that maybe everybody does, and that it's not a question of whether one's damaged, but of how easily or not that damage is seen. — Marie Rutkoski

He hadn't love her. She hadn't loved him. Yet they'd cared for each other, and Kestrel remember how he'd set a soft black puppy into her hands. No one had given her such a gift. He'd made her laugh. That, too, was a gift. — Marie Rutkoski

There was dishonor, she decided, in accepting someone else's idea of honor without question. — Marie Rutkoski

Where will you sleep?"
"Have no fear. Many a bed would welcome me. — Marie Rutkoski

She'd felt it before, she felt it now: the pull to fall in with him, to fall into him, to lose her sense of self. — Marie Rutkoski

So you give me nothing."
"When have I ever given you anything?"
Softly, Arin said, "You gave me much, once. — Marie Rutkoski

And Kestrel was in a good position to gather information for Arin's spymaster, wasn't she? Beloved by the court. Daughter of the general. Close to the emperor. Promised to his son. Tensen would never tell Arin if she was his source.
It fit perfectly. Look at her now. The maid's uniform. That coat. Something hidden in her eyes. Oh, yes. Kestrel would make a fine spy.
And let's not forget that ruined dress Deliah had described, with the ripped seams and vomit and mucky hem.
Wouldn't it be like Kestrel, to risk herself?
For what? Herran?
Him?
Gods of madness and lies. Arin was insane.
He laughed out loud. — Marie Rutkoski

People of the hundred," he said, using an ancient Herrani phrase Arin was surprised he knew, "who leads you?"
So many cried Arin's name that it no longer sounded like his name. — Marie Rutkoski

If you won't be my friend, you'll regret being my enemy. — Marie Rutkoski

The reason you enjoy my company is because I look like how you feel. — Marie Rutkoski

Arin imagined how, if he could, he would kneel before the boy he had been. He'd cradle himself to his chest, let the child bury his wet face against his shoulder. Shh, Arin would tell him. You will be lonely, but you' ll become strong. One day, you will have your revenge. — Marie Rutkoski

Kestrel listened to the slap of waves against the ship, the cries of struggle and death. She remembered how her heart, so tight, like a scroll, had opened when Arin kissed her. It had unfurled.
If her heart were truly a scroll, she could burn it. It would become a tunnel of flame, a handful of ash. The secrets she had written inside herself would be gone. No one would know.
Her father would choose the water for Kestrel if he knew.
Yet she couldn't. In the end, it wasn't cunning that kept her from jumping, or determination. It was a glassy fear.
She didn't want to die. Arin was right. She played a game until its end. — Marie Rutkoski