183
" Kereseth,”Aza repeated. “It’s funny--for the duration of this exile colony’s existence, we have never had a fated person pass through our doors. And now we have two.”
“Four, actually,” I said. “Akos’s older brother Eijeh is…somewhere. And his mother, Sifa. They’re both oracles.”
I cast a glance around for both of them. Sifa emerged from the shadows behind me, almost as if summoned by her name alone. Eijeh was a few paces behind her.
“Oracles. Two oracles,” Aza said. She was finally startled, it seemed.
“Aza,” Sifa said, nodding. She wore a smile intended, I was sure, to be inscrutable. I almost rolled my eyes. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
184
" There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Akos said.
“I was wondering when you’d get to the point,” Jorek said.
Ara set a plate down in front of Akos. There wasn’t much on it--a roll, probably a little stale by now, some dried meat, some pickled saltfruit. She brushed the crumbs off her fingers and sat down next to her son.
“What Jorek means is, we like having you here, but we know you don’t do things without a good reason,” Ara said, flicking the side of her son’s nose to chastise him. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
189
" Akos stepped in front of the soldier before he could follow Lazmet into the courtyard, bringing the door swinging behind him. The move had surprised the man; he didn’t even object as Akos slammed the door between them, and turned the bolt so he couldn’t get in.
“If your intention was to trick me into poisoning myself, your timing is off,” Lazmet said.
Akos turned. The hushflowers--the ones he had been counting on to make this easier, their poison blooms capable of felling Lazmet even if he, Akos, couldn’t--weren’t there. Their stalks were empty. The flowers had already been harvested.
The knife was still cool against Akos’s back. If Vakrez hadn’t given it to him, he would be as good as dead right now. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
194
" I pushed my currentshadows up, up, up.
Over the sizzle of the amphitheater’s force field, which Akos had disabled at a touch as he lifted us to safety. His arm had been strong across my back, tightly coiled as a rope.
Over the center of Voa, where I had lived all my life, contained in spotless wood paneling and the glow of fenzu. I felt Ryzek’s hands, a little sweaty as they pressed over my ears, to shield me from the screams of whoever my father was tormenting.
And higher over Voa, over even the fringes of the city where the Storyteller and his sweet purple tea lived, where the renegades had cobbled together a dinner table made of half a dozen other dinner tables.
I didn’t suffer from a lack of fuel. The currentshadows had been so strong all my life, strong enough to render me incapable of attending a simple dinner party, strong enough to bow my back and force tears from my eyes, strong enough to keep me awake and pacing all through the night. Strong enough to kill, but now I understood why they killed. It wasn’t because they drained the life from a person, but because they overwhelmed it. It was like gravity--we needed it to stay grounded, alive, but if it was too strong, it formed a black hole, from which even light could not escape.
Yes, the force of the current was too fierce for one body to contain--
Unless that body was mine. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
196
" Lazmet grabbed his arm and yanked it hard to the side. Pain sparked in Akos’s shoulder and spread through his entire body. He screamed, and the knife fell out of his hands and into the rotten leaves. He fell down, too, lying at Lazmet’s feet.
Tears rolled down the sides of his face. All this planning, all this lying--the betrayal of his friends, his family, his country--Cyra--and it had come to this.
“You aren’t the first son to try to kill me, you know,” Lazmet said. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
197
" And we all accept the fates we earn?” he said.
“What kind of a question is that? You sound like some kind of Ogran mystic.” She rolled her eyes, which told him how she felt about Ogran mystics.
“Or like my mom,” he said. “The oracle. Maybe I’m turning into her.”
“Ah, we all become our parents, eventually,” Zenka said, stabbing the fruit again. “What do you want, Thuvhe?”
“I want a space to brew a painkiller,” he said. “And…access to ingredients.”
“Do you also want the moon in a jar?”
“Does Ogra have a moon?”
“Yes, and it’s almost small enough to put in a jar, to be honest. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
198
" This Cyra Noavek,” Ast says as he turns a smooth stone in his left hand. I had noticed that Ast was always moving, whether bouncing his knees or chewing on the pliable edge of his comb or fidgeting with something between his fingers. “There any chance she’ll agree to the terms?”
I laugh. The idea of Cyra Noavek, who’d kept fighting in the arena even after her own brother peeled skin from her head, handing over her country to Thuvhe without so much as an argument is downright ridiculous.
“Well it’s not like I’ve met her,” Ast says, defensive.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you,” I say, “it’s just, she’d fight with a wall if it got in her way. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)