Arobynn Quotes & Sayings

I love you," he repeated, shaking her again. "I have for years. But if I asked you to pick, you'd choose Arobynn, and I. Can't. Take. It."
"You're a damned idiot," she breathed grabbing the front of his tunic. "You're a moron and an ass and a damned idiot." He looked like she had hit him. But she went on, and grasped both sides of his face. "Because I'd pick you. — Sarah J. Maas

These changes-the more rapid pulse, the deeper breathing, the increase of sugar in the blood, the secretion from the adrenal glands-were very diverse and seemed unrelated. Then, one wakeful night, after a considerable collection of these changes had been disclosed, the idea flashed through my mind that they could be nicely integrated if conceived as bodily preparations for supreme effort in flight or in fighting. Further investigation added to the collection and confirmed the general scheme suggested by the hunch. — Walter Bradford Cannon

Serpine: You have caused me so much trouble over the years detective. It's almost a shame to end it
Skulduggery: You're surrendering? — Derek Landy

I have two different categories of favorite films. One is the emotional favorites, which means these are generally films that I saw when I was a kid; anything you see in your formative years is more powerful, because it really stays with you forever. The second category is films that I saw while I was learning the craft of motion pictures. — John Carpenter

She wouldn't leave him like this, in this cold, dark room.
She yanked out of Arobynn's grasp. Wordlessly, she unfastened her cloak and spread it over Sam, covering the damage that had been so carefully inflicted. She climbed onto the wooden table and lay out beside him, stretching an arm across his middle, holding him close.
The body still smelled faintly like Sam. And like the cheap soap she'd made him use, because she was so selfish that she couldn't let him have her lavender soap.
Celaena buried her face in his cold, stiff shoulder. There was a strange, musky scent all over him
a smell that was so distinctly not Sam that she almost vomited again. It clung to his golden-brown hair, to his torn, bluish lips.
She wouldn't leave him.
Footsteps heading toward the door
then the snick of it closing as Arobynn left.
Celaena closed her eyes. She wouldn't leave him.
She wouldn't leave him. — Sarah J. Maas

She'd been only eight when Arobynn Hamel, her mentor and the King of the Assassins, found her half-submerged on the banks of a frozen river and brought her to his keep on the border between Adarlan and Terrasen. — Sarah J. Maas

Thank you for the oil," he added. "My skin was a little dry. — Sarah J. Maas

Aelin braced her forearms on the bar, crossing one ankle over the other. "Hello, Tern." Arobynn's second in command-or he had been two years ago. A vicious, calculating little prick who had always been more than eager to do Arobynn's dirty work. "I figured it was only a matter of time before one of Arobynn's dogs sniffed me out."
Tern flashed a too-bright smile. "If memory serves, you were always his favorite bitch. — Sarah J. Maas

Father, brother, lover - he'd never really declared himself any of them. Certainly not the lover part, thought if Celaena had been another sort of girl, and if Arobynn had raised her differently , perhaps it might have come to that. He loved her like family, yet he put her in the most dangerous positions. He nurtured and educated her, yet he'd obliterated her innocence the first time he'd made her end a life. He'd given her everything, but he'd also taken everything away. She could no sooner sort out her feelings toward the King of the Assassins that she could count the stars in the sky. — Sarah J. Maas

Lighting gleamed on the blade, a flicker of quicksilver.
For Wesley. For Sam. For Aelin.
And for herself. For the child she'd been, for the seventeen-year-old on her Bidding night, for the woman she'd become, her heart in shreds, her invisible wound still bleeding.
It was so very easy to sit up and slice the knife across Arobynn's throat. — Sarah J. Maas

But he was a filthy pirate. They were Arobynn Hamel's assassin-educated, wealthy, refined. Slavery was beneath them. — Sarah J. Maas

Mikhail truly liked Ansel-that much was obvious. he always found excuses to touch her, always smiled at her, always looked at her as if she were the only person in the room. Celeana sloshed her wine around in her glass. If she were being honest, sometimes she thought Sam looked at her that way. But then he'd go and say something absurd, or try to undermine her, and she'd chide herself for even thinking about him. Her stomach tightened. What had Arobynn done to him that night? She should have inquired after him. But in the day's after him, she's been so busy, wrapped up in her rage ... She hadn't dared look for him, actually. Because if Arobynn had hurt Sam the way he'd hurt her ... Celeana drained the rest of her wine. — Sarah J. Maas

Her beauty was a weapon - one she kept honed - but it could also be a vulnerability. Arobynn — Sarah J. Maas

She wondered whether the queen knew. Rowan did. Aedion did. And Arobynn did. He had understood that with Rowan, she was no longer afraid of him; with Rowan, Arobynn was now utterly unnecessary. Irrelevant. — Sarah J. Maas

Wasn't learning to lose gracefully part of your training?"
"No," she said sourly. "Arobynn told me that second place was just a nice title for the first loser. — Sarah J. Maas

Arobynn hit her-her ribs, her jaw, her gut. And her face. Again and again and again. Careful blows, meant to inflict as much pain as possible without doing permanent damage. And Sam kept roaring, shouting words that she couldn't quite hear over the agony. The last thing she remembered was a pang of guilt at the sight of her blood staining Arobynn's exquisite red carpet. And then darkness, blissful darkness, full of relief that she hadn't seen them hurt Sam. — Sarah J. Maas

After another moment of quietness, he asked, "Why did you do it?"
Arobynn's attention drifted back to the wagon, already a small dot in the rolling foothills above Rifthold. "Because I don't like sharing my belongings," was his only response. — Sarah J. Maas

Arobynn looked exactly as he had the last time she'd seen him: a fine-boned aristo face, silky auburn hair that grazed his shoulders, and a deep-blue tunic of exquisite make, unbuttoned with an assumed casualness at the top to reveal the toned chest beneath. No sign at all of a necklace or chain. His long, muscled arm was draped across the back of the bench, and his tanned, scar-flecked fingers drummed a beat in time with the hall music. — Sarah J. Maas

You want to know what price I asked for forgiving Arobynn, Celaena?" Sam stood so still the he might have been a statue. "My price was his oath that he'd never lay a hand on you again. I told him I'd forgive him in exchange for that. — Sarah J. Maas

I'll kill you! Sam had screamed it at Arobynn as the King of the Assassins beat her. He'd roared it. In those horrible minutes, whatever bond had sprung up between her and Sam hadn't broken. He'd switched loyalties- he'd chosen to stand by her, fight for her. If anything, that made him different from Ansel. Sam could have hurt or betrayed her a dozen times over, but he'd never jumped at the opportunity. — Sarah J. Maas

This was some dream, or she had gone to hell after all, because she couldn't exist in the world where this had been done to him, where she paced like an idiot all night while he suffered, while Farran tortured him, while he ripped out his eyes and
Celaena vomited on the floor.
Footsteps, then Arobynn's hands were on her shoulder, on her waist, pulling her away.
He was dead.
Sam was dead. — Sarah J. Maas

People think a big camera and big lighting will make art, and I want to break that rule. If you have a great concept, it can be art. — Nikki S. Lee

Lysandra," Celaena echoed. She'd met Lysandra when they were both ten, and in the seven years that they'd known each other, Celaena couldn't recall a time when she didn't want to beat in the girl's face with a brick. Or throw her out a window. Or do any of a number of things she'd learned from Arobynn. It — Sarah J. Maas

Arobynn only smiled at her, taller by a head. And when he reached out, she allowed him to brush his knuckles down her cheek. The calluses on is fingers said enough about how often he practiced. I do not expect you to trust me; I do not expect you to love me. — Sarah J. Maas

As the memory of that day echoed through her, she remembered the words Sam kept screaming at Arobynn, as the King of the Assassins beat her, the words that she'd somehow forgotten in the fog of pain: I'll kill you! Sam had said it like he meant it. He'd bellowed it, again and again and again ... — Sarah J. Maas

In some cases, she was actively trying not to make friends, though she usually stopped short of being rude. (Uptight, tense, and mildly misanthropic? Yes. Rude? No.) — Rainbow Rowell

She scanned the night sky until she located the Stag, the Lord of the North. The unmoving star atop the stag's head - the eternal crown - pointed the way the way to Terrasen. She'd been told that the great rulers of Terrasen turned into those bright stars so their people would never be alone - and would always know the way home. She hadn't set foot there in ten years. While he'd been her master, Arobynn hadn't let her, and afterward she hadn't dared.
She had whispered the truth that day at Nehemia's grave. She'd been running for so long that she didn't know what it was to stand and fight. — Sarah J. Maas

At dinner, she'd seen the expression flash across his face when he caught Aelin and Rowan smiling at each other. All of Arobynn's jabs and stories had failed to find their mark tonight because Aelin had been too lost in Rowan to hear. She wondered whether the queen knew. Rowan did. Aedion did. And Arobynn did. — Sarah J. Maas

You can't go."
"Give me a reason why I shouldn't."
"Because I'll miss you, damn it!" she hissed, splaying her arms. "Because what's the point in anything if you just disappear forever?"
"The point in what, Celaena?" How could he be so calm when she was so frantic?
"The point in Skull's Bay, and the point in getting me that music, and the point in ... the point in telling Arobynn that you'd forgive him if he never hurt me again."
"You said you didn't care what I thought. Or what I did. Or if I died, if I'm not mistaken."
"I lied! And you know I lied you stupid bastard! — Sarah J. Maas

Farran studied his new ally, his gaze glittering. "You have no idea." After another moment, he asked, "Why did you do it?"
Arobynn's attention drifted back to the wagon, already a small dot in the rolling foothills above Rifthold. "Because I don't like sharing my belongings. — Sarah J. Maas

The undergarments were plain-and folded. Who folded their undergarments? Celeana thought of her enormous closet back home, exploding with colour and different fabrics and patterns, all tossed together. Her undergarments, while expensive, usually wound up in a heap in their drawer. Sam, probably, folded his undergarments. Though, depending on how much of him Arobynn left intact, he might not be able to now. Arobynn would never permanently main her, but Sam might have faired worse. Sam had always been the expendable one. — Sarah J. Maas

Why don't you get to the point," she drawled. "I want to have a few hours of sleep tonight." Not a lie. With every breath, exhaustion wrapped tighter around her bones.
"I would have thought," Arobynn said, "given how close you two were and your abilities, that you'd somehow be able to sense it. Or at least hear of it, considering what he was accused of."
The prick was enjoying every second of this. If Dorian was dead or hurt
"Your cousin Aedion has been imprisoned for treason - for conspiring with the rebels here in Rifthold to depose the king and put you back on the throne."
The world stopped.
Stopped, and started, then stopped again. — Sarah J. Maas

With nothing else to distract her, Celeana eventually returned to thinking about Sam. Even weeks later, she had no idea how she'd somehow gotten attached to him, what he'd been shouting when Arobynn beat her, and why Arobynn had thought he'd need three seasoned assassins to restrain him that day. — Sarah J. Maas