Home > Work > Ink and Steel (Promethean Age, #3)
1 " For a brazen Libertine, an adulterer, a sodomite, an atheist, a fornicator, rakehell, heretic, godless playmaker and debaucher of innocents, you’re a sorry state of affairs. "
― Elizabeth Bear , Ink and Steel (Promethean Age, #3)
2 " You’re mine,” she said, coming closer. “Don’t try to fight me, Kit: I’ve outlived kings and outwitted princes, and bent the noblest of knights to my will. In the end, they all did as I bid or they died: I was a goddess before I became as you see me now. Although-“ her fingers cool on his throat- “even Lancelot never fought me as you do.”“Lancelot?” A froggy crack, clogged as the troll’s.“You’re worth three of him,” she answered with a storied smile. “Except on the battlefield. Where he was unstoppable. But that’s the sort of swordsman I need least in this new world. "
3 " Get thee behind me, Satan.” A wink broke the horsetrader’s appraisal in the Devil’s gaudy eyes: The thought had occurred:“Are angels equipped for such roguery?”: Like man, made in God’s image-:“-So God has an arsehole?”:Yes. He calls him Michael: Lucifer laughed in such merriment that Kit smiled. :Surely thou has heart of l’osculum inflame:“The infamous kiss. Your kiss. The one that bestows power of witchcraft. ’Tis not a kiss on the mouth, I hear.”Lucifer only smiled. "
4 " Murchaud’s hands lightened on his hips; Murchaud’s teeth closed on the nape of his neck like a stallion conquering a mare. He cried out, but Morgan’s mouth muffled the sound. "
5 " I’faith, Kit, is there any man in Elizabeth’s court you haven’t let bugger you?”“There’s a few I’ve buggered instead.” Kit waited for the chuckle. Will did not fail him. "
6 " The world is not kindly to those who seek wisdom, Will. "
7 " If you cannot bear it, there’s always the knife.Suicide, and back into Satan’s hands. He wished he didn’t know the shiver that crept up his neck was desire and not terror. Back into his hands whenever he wants you. And you cannot pretend you did it for Will. "
8 " Kit reached up and over, felt down the spring plane of his shoulder blade. His left arm with its old injury wouldn’t flex so far; he reached with the right. Blood-gorged flesh heated his fingertips. He could feel, almost, the outline of each tooth, the roughness of a seeking tongue. Right where someone might bite a lover take from behind-Right where a wing would take root, if he had wings. "