Throne of Glass

After all, you aren’t Adarlan’s Assassin for nothing.

“My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered. “But it makes no difference if my name’s Celaena or Lillian or Bitch, because I’d still beat you, no matter what you call me.”

He didn’t know why, but seeing her made him feel like a man.

I am Celaena Sardothien, Adarlan’s Assassin. If these men knew who I was, they’d stop laughing. I am Celaena Sardothien. I am going to win. I will not be afraid.

When she awoke every morning, she repeated the same words: I will not be afraid. For a year, those words had meant the difference between breaking and bending; they had kept her from shattering in the darkness of the mines.

“Even if you offered them self-rule, those rebels would mount your head on a pike before the gates of Orynth.”

“Perhaps alongside all my illegitimate heirs, if I’m so fortunate.”

“You understand what my occupation entails, don’t you?”

“No disrespect, but this sort of finery is worth far more than seeing my head roll on the ground.”

“You understand what my occupation entails, don’t you?”

“No disrespect, but this sort of finery is worth far more than seeing my head roll on the ground

“I’d vanish in an instant.”

“Yes,” he said, “you’d vanish with three arrows buried in your spine.”

a lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back