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1 " What are you?" she asked. " A monster," said Kell hoarsely. " You'd better let me go." The girl gave a small, mocking laugh. " Monsters don't faint in the presence of ladies." " Ladies don't dress like men and pick pockets," retorted Kell. Her smile only sharpened. " What are you really?" " Tied to your bed," said Kell matter-of-factly. " And?" His brow furrowed. " And in trouble. "
2 " Please tell me this is easier to take off than it was to put on.”Calla raised a brow. “You do not think Master Kell knows how? "
― V.E. Schwab , A Gathering of Shadows (Shades of Magic, #2)
3 " Blood was magic made manifest. There it thrived. And there it poisoned. Kell had seen what happened when power warred with the body, watched it darken in the veins of corrupted men, turning their blood from crimson to black. If red was the color of magic in balance---of harmony between power and humanity---then black was the color of magic without balance, without order, without restraint. "
― V.E. Schwab , A Darker Shade of Magic (Shades of Magic, #1)
4 " We still have time," Kell assured him, getting to his feet." How do you know?" asked Hastra. " We can't hear the bells down here, and there are no windows to gauge the light." " Magic," Kell said, and then, when Hastra's eyes widened, he gestured to the hourglass sitting on the table with his other tools. " And that. "
5 " Because Rhy didn’t need his protection, not anymore, and he’d only told a partial truth when he said they both needed this.The whole truth was, Rhy needed it more.Because Kell had given him a gift he did not want, could never repay.He’d always envied his brother ’s strength.And now, in a horrible way, it was his.He was immortal.And he hated it.And he hated that he hated it. Hated that he’d become the thing he never wanted to be, a burden to his brother, a source of pain and suffering, a prison. Hated that if he’d had a choice, he would have said no. Hated that he was grateful he hadn’t had a choice, because he wanted to live, even if he didn’t deserve to.But most of all, Rhy hated the way his living changed how Kell lived, the way his brother moved through life as if it were suddenly fragile. The black stone, and whatever lived inside it, and for a time in Kell, had changed his brother, woken something restless, something reckless. Rhy wanted to shout, to shake Kell and tell him not to shy away from danger on his account, but charge toward it, even if it meant getting hurt.Because Rhy deserved that pain.He could see his brother suffocating beneath the weight of it. Of him.And he hated it.And this gesture—this foolish, mad, dangerous gesture—was the best he could do.The most he could do. "
