35 Quotes by Laurie Forest

She holds herself so elegantly straight, I adjust my posture without thinking and hasten my pace to keep up with her. I wonder how she manages to walk so confidently and gracefully in her slim, tall heels, her skirts swishing around her feet. I’d probably fall clear over on shoes like that. My own feet are covered in sturdy boots made for gardening and caring for livestock. I secretly hope I can try feminine shoes like hers.

Reluctantly, I say my goodbyes to Echo and follow behind Aislinn, trying my best to ignore the Kelt, Yvan Guriel, as he sets his fiery green eyes on me and shoots me a parting, hostile glare.

Then the air around us goes quiet again, and we rise, trembling, to our feet. My heart lurches as I take in the sight before us. There’s a whole host of dragons in the air now, soldiers astride them as they wing their way north. They’re like a flat, black swarm of mammoth insects, screeching at each other, wings whooshing. The brilliant orange sunset silhouettes their evil forms.

I don’t understand your people. You take perfectly natural and normal things and write religious laws that state they’re unnatural. Which is absurd.

Don’t worry, Fallon,” I say, careful not to look at her, struggling to keep my voice even. “Maybe your tailor can make you another dress. In Gorthan wool. I hear it’s very much the style.” I glance up at Fallon just in time to catch her look of pure, undisguised hostility. Her fist tight on her wand, Fallon stalks out and slams the door behind her. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Sparrow’s mouth twitching into a fleeting grin.

There are assorted side characters, too: the beautiful Gardnerian maidens with their long black hair; wicked Lupine shapeshifters – half-human, half-wolf; green-scaled Snake Elves; and the mysterious Vu Trin sorceresses. They’re characters from the storybooks and songs of my childhood, as familiar to me as the old patchwork quilt that lies on my bed. “Why.

I take a deep, shuddering breath. Kind, foolish Jules. I touch his face. His jutting cheekbone. His infinitely intelligent eyes. “You can’t marry me, Jules,” I tell him, my mouth trembling. “I’m not a Kelt.” His expression turns fierce. “I don’t care! When have I ever cared?” “I will always be Gardnerian.” “Then be Gardnerian,” he stubbornly returns. “We’ll make a life in Verpacia. And when things calm down, we can wandfast if it’s possible. I don’t care. I’d bind myself to you.

The Gardnerian’s mouth is pressed into a thin, hard line as she deliberates, the ticking of the clock on the wall reverberating in the silence. “I understand your dilemma,” she finally says. She straightens and turns from the window to face Kam Vin. “If the White Wand chooses to leave Elloren Gardner, or if she makes any move to contact the Amazakaran, the Kinh Hoang may strike.” Her eyes narrow, facing the sorceress down.

We don’t get to choose what we are,” she says finally, her voice low. “But we do get to choose who we are.