Bogdana Quotes
Quotes tagged as "bogdana"
Showing 1-5 of 5

“You will not always be so small or so frightened,' she told me. 'You are a queen.”
― The Stolen Heir
― The Stolen Heir

“They say that he can talk flowers into opening their petals at night, as though his face were that of the sun. He'll steal your heart.”
― The Stolen Heir
― The Stolen Heir

“I would say that you lost yourself along the way, but you lost yourself far before that,' the storm hag tells me as I pass her. 'Wake up, little bird.”
― The Stolen Heir
― The Stolen Heir

“Her fingers are as long as flower stalks, her limbs as spindly as sticks of birch. Weed-like strands of black straight hair hang over her mushroom-pale face, half-hiding tiny eyes that gleam with malice.”
― The Stolen Heir
― The Stolen Heir

“The wise old hag told them to gather up snow and form it into the shape of a daughter.
'They did this. The girl they made was delicate in form, with eyes of snow, and lips of frozen rose petals, and the sharply pointed ears of their people. When they finished sculpting her, they smiled at each other, captivated by her beauty.'
...
'When my breath blew across the girl, the spark of life lit within her, and they could see her eyelashes twitch, her tresses shiver. The child began to move. Her little limbs were slender and nearly as pale a blue as the reflection of the sky on the snow she'd been made from. Her hair, a deeper blue, like the flowers that grew nearby. Her eyes, that of the lichen that clung to rocks. Her lips, the red of that fresh-spilled blood.”
― The Stolen Heir
'They did this. The girl they made was delicate in form, with eyes of snow, and lips of frozen rose petals, and the sharply pointed ears of their people. When they finished sculpting her, they smiled at each other, captivated by her beauty.'
...
'When my breath blew across the girl, the spark of life lit within her, and they could see her eyelashes twitch, her tresses shiver. The child began to move. Her little limbs were slender and nearly as pale a blue as the reflection of the sky on the snow she'd been made from. Her hair, a deeper blue, like the flowers that grew nearby. Her eyes, that of the lichen that clung to rocks. Her lips, the red of that fresh-spilled blood.”
― The Stolen Heir
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