Pixie King Quotes

“He roars, “What have you done?”
I don’t answer. My heart beats crazy happy just to see her get across the iron. She’s not burned. She’s still human.
“Zara.” His voice is measured. “I need her to maintain control.”
“You don’t need to be in control. You’re all trapped. So there’ll be no more stealing boys, no more shooting arrows in the woods, getting people lost. It’s all over.” The metal is cold on my fingers.
Devyn grabs more wire, starts another flight. A group of pixies leaps for him, screaming, a wild, chaotic mess. They start clawing at each other, lost in fear and hunger, angry. A pixie in a pink dress shrieks when another wearing a black gown lashes at her, slashing through the skin on her arm.
“Zara?” The king tries to be calm and nice. He tries to look human. It doesn’t work. “Do you know what this means? Do you know the power that I’ll lose? The need? We will fight in here. We will kill each other.”
“I know,” I say and my voice shakes as I stare at him, this man who is in my blood, but not me. He is not me. Still, I understand his need, his fear. He is stuck in this awful place where there is no moral way to move forward. “I’m so sorry.”
And I am.”
― Carrie Jones, Need

“Zara.” He sighs. The wind bellows outside. “How can I make you understand this? I need your mom. If I don’t get her, more boys will die.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No, it’s just how it is.”
I think for a second. “If that’s true, then why did Ian try to turn me?”
He loses his composure. His face shifts into something worried, something almost human. “Did he kiss you?”
“Almost. Betty killed him first.”
He almost smiles. He pulls his hand through his hair. “Betty is fierce.”
“Is that why you stay away when she’s here?”
“Not even a pixie wants to tangle with a tiger.”
He blows on the ember in his hand. It turns to dust.
“You seem like you could handle almost anything,” I say.
“This?” He smirks. “Parlor tricks.”
― Carrie Jones, Need

“Are we taking the Subaru?”
“No. We’ll run.”
Running is not part of my plan. Stopping right here is my plan.
“I’m not actually supposed to run,” I try to say. “The arm and everything.”
“I’m sorry about your arm.”
“Really?”
He swoops me up as if I weigh nothing, leans me against his chest, and carries me the way grooms are supposed to carry brides over thresholds. He is cold now, away from the fire. He smells of mushrooms. “Are you afraid of heights?”
He keeps my good arm against him, and doesn’t even jostle my cast arm. It’s smooth and quick and I don’t have time to ...He sets me down on the rolling ground in a large clearing in the middle of tall pine trees. My breath whooshes out like I’d been holding it.
“Oh, that was amazing,” I say before I realize it.
“You’re glowing. I thought you hated me.”
“I do. But flying? I don’t hate flying. I read this book once where—”
“You read?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I like philosophy myself. It’s good to have a daughter who reads.”
I swallow, shift my weight on my feet. They won’t be able to follow us here; we left no tracks. I can’t believe we flew. “Can all pixies fly? Because I was totally unprepared for that. I mean, I didn’t read that.”
“Only ones with royal blood. You can.”
― Carrie Jones, Need