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2000 List of Popular Paperbacks for YA
228 pages, Paperback
First published May 1, 1997
And then, because I asked, she took me to the ball. Isn't that what girls are supposed to ask for?
He would never let anything hurt me, but he would never let anything touch me either.
Say that I am queen, she said, her fingers whitening around the scepter.
If you really were, I told her, it would need no saying.
And then the tears did come, and I hoped they were for her, a queen dead in her prime, and not just for my own treacherous self.
You should've known better than to give me what I asked for, I whispered. Now the wind is scented with lavender, and the wolves howl because they cannot have him, and when he blows his horn, I will go to him.
I have never been content to be nothing but a girl.
If I have trampled you, it was to mesh your fibers into something useful.
See this leaf, little girl, blackened under the snow? It has died so it will be born again on the branch in spring time. Once I was a stupid girl; now I am an angry woman. Sometimes you must shed your skin to save it.
I was innocent of all effort; I was blank as a page.
Perhaps we get not what we deserve, but what we demand.
Power I had to learn how to pick up without getting burnt, how to shape it and conceal it and flaunt it and use it, and when to use it, and when to still my breath and do nothing at all.
My life was in my own hands, now, beating faintly, too small yet for anyone to notice. I cupped freedom to my breast. I would feed it, I would love it; it would grow big enough to carry me away.
In this life I have nothing to do but cavort with the wind, but in my last it was my fate to be a woman.
But I was coming to realize that my predicament was not unique. At the balls he took me to there were many beautiful young women who didn't say a word. They answered every question with a shrug or a smile. If champagne got spilt down their dresses they only sighed; when the full moon slid out from behind the castle they watched it in silence. I could not understand it. Had they sold their voices too? Even their bodies were silent, always upright, never loosening their lines. They walked like letters on a page.
On the whole I am inclined to think that a witch should not kiss. Perhaps it is the not being kissed that makes her a witch; perhaps the source of her power is the breath of loneliness around her. She who takes a kiss can also die of it, can wake into something unimaginable, having turned herself into some new species.
Once I was a stupid girl; now I am an angry woman.