A story isn't a charcoal sketch, where every stroke lies on the surface to be seen. It's an oil painting, filled with layers that the author must uncover so carefully to show its beauty.
Amelia Atwater-RhodesThey say the first of my kind was Alasdair, a human raised by hawks. She learned the languages of birds and was gifted with their form.
Amelia Atwater-RhodesSacrifice of live, sacrifice for love. Fate is gentle and harsh; she gives and she takes.
Amelia Atwater-RhodesYou speak of giving up my dreams. Have you ever, since Maeve's coven split, had a dream? Have you ever had anything worth dying for?
Amelia Atwater-Rhodes