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606 pages, Hardcover
First published December 8, 2014
“Happiness is a series of grains of sand spread out in a desert of violence and anguish.”
The callousness of the Tailor's words, the way she discarded all of Valiana's pain and sorrow-burned in me. I needed her to know how much I hated this, all of it: her cold, calculating strategies, the way she planned and plotted. She wasn't much different from the Dukes we all despised.
The others were looking at me, waiting to see how I would react. I didn't want to be an angry, petulant child. I wanted to be noble and brave and all the things I'd tried to be since the day the King had shaken me out of my madness. But I couldn't. I simply didn't have it in me. "You're a fucking bitch,"I said.
"Tell them the Greatcoats are coming."
“My name is Falcio val Mond, one of the last of the King's Greatcoats, and if you listen very carefully you might still be able to hear me screaming.”
“We'd stood in that room and locked eyes and without having to speak it aloud, shared a single silent promise: if the world is going to fall apart, then we will go down with it. Fighting.”
“Happiness is a series of grains of sand spread out in a desert of violence and anguish.”
"To mayhem and fighting".
“He’d told me the world could be the most lovely place you could imagine, so long as your imagination was fueled by love.”
"The problem with Brasti is that he's an idiot. He's handsome and charming, he can outshoot any man or woman with a bow, and he's an idiot."
Valor. The word is valor.
There are things stronger than hate and more deadly than fear, and this is one of them. The world demands a response to corruption and decay.
My name is Falcio val Mond, one of the last of the King’s Greatcoats, and if you listen very carefully you might still be able to hear me screaming.
“That on your best day—on your very best day—you could never beat me.”
“I do know that,” I said, “and thanks very much for reminding me.”
“Then why all this pretense? Why go through the motions?” He sounded genuinely interested.
“Because, you . . .” I reached for the worst insult I could think of and settled on, “you stupid son-of-a-Saint, I’ve been beaten and tortured and killed eight times. I’m tired and weak. My best friend sits trapped in that stupid circle, despising himself. The daughter of my King is possessed by ____ through magic, which I hate, by the way, and the woman I love has just set herself up to be killed horribly in a manner that I can’t stop replaying in my head, over and over.”
“I don’t understand your point.”
“My point is, you feckless thug, this isn’t my best day. It’s my worst. So I’m going to use it to put you down.”
“I have a question,” Dariana said after I was done. She was sitting cross- legged on my bed, quite unconcerned that the dirt on her boots was rapidly transferring itself to my blankets.
“What?” I asked.
“Do you have any plans that don’t involve telling Valiana and me to run away and hide somewhere while you—?”
“— while he tries to get Kest and me killed?” Brasti finished. “No. That’s pretty much the crux of all of Falcio’s masterful stratagems, so you might as well get used to it now.”
‘The son of a bitch got me,’ he said, showing me a wound barely deeper than a shaving cut.
‘You’ll live,’ I said. ‘Get up.’
‘It’s my hand, Falcio,’ Brasti complained, rising to his feet. ‘I’m an archer, not a swordsman. My art requires finesse and skill; it’s not just swinging a pointy bar of metal around like a doddering old man waving a stick.’
She’s meant for moonlight, I thought. Unfortunately, what I said was, ‘You look nice in the dark.’
“Words matter. Without words you can’t have stories and without stories we would never have heard of the Greatcoats.”
“He’d told me the world could be the most lovely place you could imagine, so long as your imagination was fueled by love.”
"The fights that matter most aren't won on skill"
"We need justice to be a river, Falcio, always flowing, always wearing against the rocks that stand in its way, not a sword that shatters when you strike it against stone"
"We were five broken people trying to hold together a broken country. But we were all that was left"
"The law only matters if we hold it higher than ourselves"
“If on a winter’s night a traveler like you finds shelter in one of the inns that line the trade roads of Tristia, sitting close to the fire, drinking what is quite likely watered-down ale and doing your best to stay out of the way of the local bully-boys, you might chance to see a Greatcoat wander in.
You’ll know him or her by the long leather coat of office, weathered to a deep brown and tempered by a hint of dark red or green or sometimes even blue.
I will not bore you with the details, gentle traveler, for they are unfit for conversation between folk of good breeding.
All you need to know that is someone was murdering my country. And I…
Alas… What good are the threats of a corpse, even when it hasn’t discovered its own death yet?
But, there had to be an answer.
My name is Falcio val Mond, one of the last of the King’s Greatcoats, and if you listen very carefully you might still be able to hear me screaming.”