Nicasia Quotes

“The Grand General would mount your head on a wall,” Nicasia informed him, patting his cheek.

“A very fine head,” he informed her with a wicked grin. “Suitable for mounting.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“...nothing I could do to you will be as terrible as what you'll do to yourself.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“Please,' she says, her head bent. 'Please. You must try to break the curse. I know that you are the queen by right and that you may not want him back, but-'

If anything could have increased my astonishment, it was that. 'You think that I'd-'

'I didn't know you, before,' she says, the anguish clear in her voice. There is a hitch in her breath that comes with weeping. 'I thought you were just some mortal.'

I have to bite my tongue at that, but I don't interrupt her.

'When you became his seneschal, I told myself that he wanted you for your lying tongue. Or because you'd become biddable, although you never were before. I should have believed you when you told him he didn't know the least of what you could do.

'While you were in exile, I got more of the story out of him. I know you don't believe this, but Cardan and I were friends before we were lovers, before Locke. He was my first friend when I came here from the Undersea. And we were friends, even after everything. I hate that he loves you.'

'He hated it, too,' I say with a laugh that sounds more brittle than I'd like.

Nicasia fixes me with a long look. 'No, he didn't.'

To that, I can only be silent.

'He frightens the Folk, but he's not what you think he is,' Nicasia says. 'Do you remember the servants that Balekin had? The human servants?'

I nod mutely. Of course I remember. I will never forget Sophie and her pockets full of stones.

'They'd go missing sometimes, and there were rumours that Cardan hurt them, but it wasn't true. He'd return them to the mortal world.'

I admit, I'm surprised. 'Why?'

She throws up a hand. 'I don't know! Perhaps to annoy his brother. But you're human, so I thought you'd like that he did it. And he sent you a gown. For the coronation.'

I remember it- the ball gown in the colours of the night, with the stark outlines of trees stitched on it and the crystals for stars. A thousand times more beautiful than the dress I commissioned. I had thought perhaps it came from Prince Dain, since it was his coronation and I'd sworn to be his creature when I'd joined the Court of Shadows.

'He never told you, did he?' Nicasia says. 'So see? Those are two nice things about him you didn't know. And I saw the way you used to look at him when you didn't think anyone was watching you.'

I bite the inside of my cheek, embarrassed despite the fact that we were lovers, and wed, and it should hardly be a secret that we like each other.

'So promise me,' she says. 'Promise me you'll help him.'

I think of the golden bridle, about the future the stars predicted. 'I don't know how to break the curse,' I say, all the tears I haven't shed welling up in my eyes. 'If I could, do you think i would be at this stupid banquet? Tell me what I must slay, what I must steal, tell me the riddle I must solve or the hag I must trick. Only tell me the way, and I will do it, no matter the danger, no matter the hardship, no matter the cost.' My voice breaks.

She gives me a steady look. Whatever else I might think of her, she really does care for Cardan.

And as tears roll down my cheeks, to her astonishment, I think she realises I do, too.

Much good it does him.”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing

“Of course I want to be like them. They're beautiful as blades forged in some divine fire. They will live forever. Valerian's hair shines like polished gold. Nicasia's limbs are long and perfectly shaped, her mouth the pink of coral, her hair the colour of the deepest, coldest part of the sea. Fox-eyed Locke, standing silently behind Valerian, his expression schooled to careful indifference, has a chin as pointed as the tips of his ears. And Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest, with black hair as iridescent as a raven's wing and cheekbones sharp enough to cut out a girl's heart. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“You want to know what I did to make him raise me up?' I ask, leaning toward her, close enough that she can feel the warmth of my breath. 'I kissed him on the mouth, and then I threatened to kiss him some more if he didn't do exactly what I wanted.'

'Liar,' she hisses.

'If you're such good friends,' I say, repeating her own words back to her with malicious satisfaction, 'why don't you ask him?”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“She looks incandescent with joy, his attention the light in which her beauty shines especially bright.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“With Nicasia by his side, Cardan drew others to him until he formed a malicious little foursome who prowled the isles of Elfhame looking for trouble. They unravelled precious tapestries and set fire to part of the Crooked Forest. They made their instructors at the palace school weep and made courtiers terrified to cross them.

Valerian, who loved cruelty the way some Folk loved poetry.

Locke, who had a whole empty house for them to run amok in, along with an endless appetite for merriment.

Nicasia, whose contempt for the land made her eager to have all of Elfhame kiss her slipper.

And Cardan, who modelled himself on his eldest brother and learned how to use his status to make Folk scrape and grovel and bow and beg, who delighted in being a villain.

Villains were wonderful. They got to be cruel and selfish, to preen in front of mirrors and poison apples, and trap girls on mountains of glass. They indulged all their worst impulses, revenged themselves for the least offense, and took every last thing they wanted.

And sure, they wound up in barrels studded with nails, or dancing in iron shoes heated by fire, not just dead, but disgraced and screaming.

But before they got what was coming to them, they got to be the fairest in the land.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“They were lying on a bed of soft moss at the edge of The Crooked Forest. He could hear waves crashing along the shore. She was sprawled out in a robe of silver, her hair spread beneath her like a tide pool.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“She had arrived in a gown of black silk beneath a cage of fish bones and shells, her deep aquamarine hair caught up in a crown of coral.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“Later when Cardan, Locke, Nicasia, and Valerian sit down to their lunch, they have to spit out their food in choking horror. All around them are the less awful children of faerie nobles, eating their bread and honey, their cakes and roasted pigeons, their elderflower jam with biscuits and cheese and the fat globes of grapes. But every single morsel in each of my enemies' baskets has been well and thoroughly salted.

Cadan's gaze catches mine, and I can't help the evil smile that pulls up the corners of my mouth. His eyes are bright as coals, his hatred a living thing, shimmering in the air between us like the air above black rocks on a blazing summer day.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“This is just a game,' Nicasia says. 'But sometimes we play too hard with our toys. And then they break.'

'It's not like we drowned you ourselves,' Valerian calls.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“Cardan won't forgive you for what you're doing with her.'

I pause, unable to pass by without listening for his answer.

But Locke only laughs. 'Is he more angry that you chose me over him or that I chose a mortal over you?”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“For a moment, a desire for vengeance rises in me. Once, she laughed at my humiliation. Now I could gloat before hers.

This is what power feels like, pure unfettered power. It's great.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“I see you staring at him,' Nicasia says, sitting down beside me. Tonight she wears a gown of gold lacework. Her dark tourmaline hair is pulled up with two golden combs the shape of a shark jaw, complete with golden teeth.

'Perhaps I am looking only at the trinkets and gold with which your mother thinks she can buy the Court's favour,' I say.'

She picks up one of the violets from my plate and places it delicately on her tongue.

'I lost Cardan's love for Locke's easy words and easier kisses, sugared like these flowers,' she says. 'Your sister lost your love to get Locke's, didn't she? But we all know what you lost.'

'Locke?' I laugh. 'Good riddance.'

Her brows knit together. 'Surely it's not the High King himself you were gazing at.'

'Surely not,' I echo, but I don't meet her eyes.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“The girl had hair the deep aqua of the sea, drawn back with combs of coral. Her dress was grey sharkskin, and her brief curtsy was that of someone who had never questioned her own value. Her gaze swept the room with undisguised contempt.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“Cardan ought to have been the boy with the heart of stone in Aslog's story, but somehow he had let his heart turn to glass. He could feel the shattered shards of it lodged in his lungs, making his every breath painful.

Cardan had trusted Nicasia not to hurt him, which was ridiculous, since he well knew that everyone hurts one another and that the people you loved hurt you the most grievously. Since he was well aware that they both took delight in hurting everyone else that they could, how could he have thought himself safe?”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“I would have my room,' Cardan said, narrowing his eyes and assuming his most superior pose. 'Perhaps you two might take whatever this is elsewhere.'

Part of him thought she would laugh, having known him before he perfected his sneer, but she shrank under his gaze.

Locke stood up, putting on his pants. 'Oh, don't be like that. We're all friends here.'

Cardan's practiced demeanour went up in smoke. He became the snarling feral child that had prowled the palace, stealing from tables, unkempt and unloved. Launching himself at Locke, he bore him to the floor. They collapsed in a heap. Cardan punched, hitting Locke somewhere between the eye and the cheekbone.

'Stop telling me who I am,' he snarled, teeth bared. 'I am tired of your stories.'

Locke tried to knock Cardan off him. But Cardan had the advantage, and he used it to wrap his hands around Locke's throat.

Maybe he really was still drunk. He felt giddy and dizzy all at once.

'You're going to really hurt him!' Nicasia shouted, hitting Cardan's shoulder and then, when that didn't work, trying to haul him off the other boy.

Locke made a wordless sound, and Cardan realised he was pressing so tightly on his windpipe that he couldn't speak.

Cardan dropped his hands away.

Locke choked, gasping for air.

'Create some tale about this,' Cardan shouted, adrenaline still fizzing through his bloodstream.

'Fine,' Locke finally managed, his voice strange. 'Fine, you made, hedge-born coxcomb. But you were only together out of habit; otherwise, it wouldn't have been so easy to make her love me.'

Cardan punched him. This time, Locke swung back, catching Cardan on the side of the head. They rolled around, hitting each other, until Locke scuttled back and made it to his feet. He ran for the door, Cardan right behind.

'You are both fools,' Nicasia shouted after them.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“I would have my room,' Cardan said, narrowing his eyes and assuming his most superior pose. 'Perhaps you two might take whatever this is elsewhere.'

Part of him thought she would laugh, having known him before he perfected his sneer, but she shrank under his gaze.

Locke stood up, putting on his pants. 'Oh, don't be like that. We're all friends here.'

Cardan's practiced demeanour went up in smoke. He became the snarling feral child that had prowled the palace, stealing from tables, unkempt and unloved. Launching himself at Locke, he bore him to the floor. They collapsed in a heap. Cardan punched, hitting Locke somewhere between the eye and the cheekbone.

'Stop telling me who I am,' he snarled, teeth bared. 'I am tired of your stories.'

Locke tried to knock Cardan off him. But Cardan had the advantage, and he used it to wrap his hands around Locke's throat.

Maybe he really was still drunk. He felt giddy and dizzy all at once.

'You're going to really hurt him!' Nicasia shouted, hitting Cardan's shoulder and then, when that didn't work, trying to haul him off the other boy.

Locke made a wordless sound, and Cardan realised he was pressing so tightly on his windpipe that he couldn't speak.

Cardan dropped his hands away.

Locke choked, gasping for air.

'Create some tale about this,' Cardan shouted, adrenaline still fizzing through his bloodstream.

'Fine,' Locke finally managed, his voice strange. 'Fine, you mad, hedge-born coxcomb. But you were only together out of habit; otherwise, it wouldn't have been so easy to make her love me.'

Cardan punched him. This time, Locke swung back, catching Cardan on the side of the head. They rolled around, hitting each other, until Locke scuttled back and made it to his feet. He ran for the door, Cardan right behind.

'You are both fools,' Nicasia shouted after them.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“I want you to take me back,' she said. 'None of our plans need to change. Nothing between us needs to change from the way it was before.'

He yawned, refusing to give her the satisfaction of his surprise. Those were the words that he'd hoped for her to say when he'd discovered her with Locke, but now, he found he no longer wanted them.

In the end, he supposed Balekin had been right. Her dalliance was a mere nothing. Balekin was probably also right when he said that only with her by his side would Cardan have some measure of political power. If he lost her, he was only himself, the despised, youngest prince.

Luckily, Cardan cared very little for politics. Or reprimands from Eldred.

'No, I don't think so,' Cardan said.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“I am curious about your change of heart.'
...
For a long moment, Nicasia didn't speak. She picked at a fishcake.

Cardan raised his eyebrows. 'Ah, you didn't make the choice to leave him, did you?'

'It's more complicated than that,' she told him. 'And it affects you as well.'

'Does it?' he inquired.

'You must listen! Locke's taken one of the mortal girls as his lover,' Nicasia said, obviously attempting to keep her voice from shaking.

Cardan was silent, his thoughts thrown in to confusion.

One of the mortal girls.

'You can't expect me to pity you,' he said finally, voice tight.

'No,' she said slowly. 'I expect you to laugh in my face and tell me that it's no more than I deserve.' She looked out toward Hollow Hall, miserable. 'But I think Locke means to humiliate you as much as he does me in doing this.. How does it look, after all, to steal your lover and then tire of her so quickly?'

He didn't care how it made him look. He didn't care in the least.

'Which one?' Cardan asked. 'Which mortal girl?'

'Does it matter?' Nicasia was clearly exasperated. 'Either. Both.'

It shouldn't matter. The human girls were insignificant, nothing. In fact, he ought to feel delighted that Nicasia had such swift cause to regret what she'd done. And if he felt even angrier than he had before, well then, he had no cause. 'At least you will have the pleasure of seeing what the Grand General does when Locke inevitably mishandles the situation.'

'That's not enough,' she said.

'What then?'

'Punish them.' She took his hands, her expression fierce. 'Punish all three of them. Convince Valerian he'd like tormenting the mortals. Force Locke to play along. Make them all suffer.'

'You should have led with that,' Cardan told her, getting to his feet. 'That I would have agreed to just for fun.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“They say faeries weep at weddings and laugh at funerals, but I thought your wedding and funeral were equally funny.”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing

“Idly, I wonder what sort of execution Cardan might order. Maybe he'd strap me to some rocks and let the sea do the work. Nicasia would like that. If he's not in the mood, though, there's always beheading, hanging, exsanguination, drawn and quartered, fed whole to a riding toad...”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing

“He'd like to make you believe he's our leader, but it's more than Nicasia likes power, I like dramatics, and Valerian likes violence. Cardan can provide us with all three, or at least excuses for all three.'

'Dramatics?' I echo.

'I like for things to happen, for stories to unfold. And if I can't find a good enough story, I make one.' He looks every inch the trickster in that moment.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“Nicasia saunters over to where the smith is sitting. She wears a dress of purple that is peacock blue when it catches the light. Her hair is woven in to a braid that circles her head, and at her brow is a chain from which dangle dozens upon dozens of beads in sparkling purples and blues and amber.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“Legends need not concern themselves with something as small as happiness.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“Orlagh waits for us in a choppy ocean, accompanied by her daughter and a pod of knights mounted on seals and sharks and all manner of sharp-toothed sea creatures. She herself sit on an orca and is dressed as though ready for battle. Her skin is covered in shiny silvery scales that seem both to be metallic and to have grown from her skin. A helmet of bone and teeth hides her hair.

Nicasia is beside her, on a shark. She has no tail today, her long legs covered in armour of shell.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“I watch grass grow between Nicasia's toes and wildflowers spring up all along the gently rising hills, as I notice the trees and brambles sprout, and as the trunk of a tree begins to form around NIcasia's body.

'Cardan!' she screams as bark wraps around her, closing over her waist.

'What have you done?' Orlagh cries as the bark moves higher, as branches unfold, budding with leaves and fragrant blossoms. Petals blow out on the waves.

'Will you flood the land now? Cardan asks Orlagh with perfect calm, as though he didn't just cause a fourth island to rise from the sea. 'Send salt water to corrupt the roots of our trees and make our streams and lakes brackish? Will you drown our berries and send your merfolk to slit our throats and steal our roses? Will you do it if it means your daughter will suffer the same? Come, I dare you.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“Valerian and Locke look strange; their clothing moth-eaten, their skin pallid, and only inky smudges where their eyes ought to be. Nicasia doesn't seem to notice. Her sea-coloured hair hangs down her back in heavy coils; her lips are twisted in to a mocking smiles, as though nothing in the world is wrong. Cardan wears a bloodstained crown, tilted at an angle, the sharp planes of his face as hauntingly beautiful as ever.”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing

“Nicasia, meanwhile, wears the colours of the sea. Her gown is the green of kelp, deep and rich. Her aqua hair is braided up and adorned with a cunning crown made of fish bones and jaws.”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing

“Surely Nicasia would expect more of Cardan's mother than the thin gruel of emotion she has served her son.”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing