Lucien Quotes

“Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?"
"Do you ever stop being such a prick?" I snapped back.
Dead—really, truly, I should have been dead for that.
But Lucien grinned at me. "Much better.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Lucien had been prepared to take me against my will.
Fae males were territorial, dominant, arrogant—but the ones in the Spring Court … something had festered in their training. Because I knew—deep in my bones—that Cassian might push and test my limits, but the moment I said no, he’d back off. And I knew that if … that if I had been wasting away and Rhys had done nothing to stop it, Cassian or Azriel would have pulled me out. They would have taken me somewhere—wherever I needed to be—and dealt with Rhys later.
But Rhys … Rhys would never have not seen what was happening to me; would never have been so misguided and arrogant and self-absorbed. He’d known what Ianthe was from the moment he met her. And he’d understood what it was like to be a prisoner, and helpless, and to struggle—every day—with the horrors of both.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“Would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here, High Lord?"

"Ah. The Suriel told you nothing important, did it?"

That smile of his sparked something bold in my chest. "He also said that you liked being brushed, and if I'm a clever girl, I might train you with treats."

Tamlin tipped his head to the sky and roared with laughter. Despite myself, I let out a quiet laugh.

"I might die of surprise," Lucien said behind me. "You made a joke, Feyre."

I turned to look at him with a cool smile. "You don't want to know what the Suriel said about you." I flicked my brows up, and Lucien lifted his hands in defeat.

"I'd pay good money to hear what the Suriel thinks of Lucien," Tamlin said.

A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle's contents and chuckling with a muttered, "Brushed.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?" - Lucien Vanserra”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“God afternoon," I said cheerfully, with an especially saccharine smile for the High Lord. He blinked at me, and both of the faerie men murmured their greetings as I took a seat across from Lucien, not my usual place facing Tamlin.

I drank deeply from my goblet of water before piling food on my plate. I savored the tense silence as I consumed the meal before me.

"You look . . . refreshed," Lucien observed with a glance at Tamlin. I shrugged. "Sleep well?"

"Like a babe." I smiled as him and took another bite of food, and felt Lucien's eyes travel inexorably to my neck.

"What is that bruise?" Lucien demanded.

I pointed my fork to Tamlin. "Ask him, he did it."

Lucien looked from Tamlin to me and then back again. "Why does Feyre have a bruise on her neck from you?" he asked with no small amount of amusement.

"I bit her," Tamlin said, not pausing as he cut his steak. "We ran into each other in the hall after the Rite.”
― Sarah J Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Well," Lucien said, his remaining russet eye fixed on me, "you don't look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, since you're to live with us. Though the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress."

Wolves ready to pounce - that's what they were, just like their friend. I was all to aware of my diction, of the very breath I took as I said, "I'd prefer not to wear that dress"

"And why not?" Lucien crooned.
It was Tamlin who answered for me. "Because killing us is easier in pants.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“To keep Velaris safe, to keep Mor and Amren and Cassian and Azriel and… Rhys safe.

I said to Lucien, low and quiet and as vicious as the talons that formed at the tips of my fingers, as vicious as the wondrous weight between my shoulder blades, “When you spend so long trapped in darkness, Lucien, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.”

A pulse of surprise, of wicked delight against my mental shields, at the dark, membranous wings I knew were now poking over my shoulders. Every icy kiss of rain sent jolts of cold through me. Sensitive—so sensitive, these Illryian wings.

Lucien backed up a step. “What did you do to yourself?”

I gave him a little smile. “The human girl you knew died Under the Mountain. I have no interest in spending immortality as a High Lord’s pet.”

Lucien started shaking his head. “Feyre—”

“Tell Tamlin,” I said, choking on his name, on the thought of what he’d done to Rhys, to his family, “if he sends anyone else into these lands, I will hunt each and every one of you down. And I will demonstrate exactly what the darkness taught me.”

There was something like genuine pain on his face.

I didn’t care. I just watched him, unyielding and cold and dark. The creature I might one day have become if I had stayed at the Spring Court, if I had remained broken for decades, centuries… until I learned to quietly direct those shards of pain outward, learned to savor the pain of others.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“...We're too powerful, and too bored with immortality, to be checked by anything else.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Well, I'm late for something incredibly important," Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Tam would gut me if he caught you drinking that.”
“Always looking after your best interests,” I said, and pointedly chugged the contents of the glass.
It was like a million fireworks exploding inside me, filling my veins with starlight. I laughed aloud, and Lucien groaned.
“Human fool,” he hissed. But his glamour had been ripped away. His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge. That was what I would capture next.
“I’m going to paint you,” I said, and giggled—actually giggled—as the words popped out.
“Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered, and I laughed again.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“He just wanted a walk- and a few books. It had been an age since he'd even had free time to read, let alone do so for pleasure.

But there she was.

His mate.

She was nothing like Jesminda.

Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she'd been born into. She had teased him, taunted him- seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn't wanted anything but her. She'd seen him not as a High Lord's seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him.

Elain had been... thrown at him.

He glanced toward the tea service spread on a low-lying table nearby. 'I'm going to assume that one of those cups belongs to your sister.' Indeed, there was a discarded book in the viper's usual chair. Cauldron help the male who wound up shackled to her.

'Do you mind if I held myself to the other?'

He tried to sound casual- comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication.

Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste.

The entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness.

He didn't want to admit he liked it. Didn't want to admit he found the city beautiful.

That the circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family... It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be.

An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug. Forced his hands to be steady while he poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the chair opposite Nesta's vacated one.

'There's a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?'

He didn't expect her to answer, and he gave himself all of one more minute before he'd rise from this chair and leave, hopefully avoiding Nesta's return.

But sunlight on gold caught his eye- and Elain slowly turned from her vigil at the window.

He had not seen her entire face since that day in Hybern.

Then, it had been drawn and terrified, then utterly blank and numb, her hair plastered to her head, her lips blue with cold and shock.

Looking at her now...

She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features.

But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully.

She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen.

Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once.

But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“The flame in her eyes was not of your usual sort, I take it.'

Lucien shook his head. 'No. It spoke to nothing in my own arsenal. That was... Ice so cold it burned. Ice and yet... fluid like flame. Or flame made of ice.'

'I think it's death,' I said quietly.

I held Rhys's gaze, as if it were again the tether that had kept me in this world. 'I think the power is death- death made flesh. Or whatever power the Cauldron holds over such things. That's why the Carver heard it- heard about her.'

'Mother above,' Lucien said, dragging a hand through his hair.

Cassian gave him a solemn nod.

But Rhys rubbed his jaw, weighing, thinking. Then he said simply, 'Only Nesta would not just conquer Death- but pillage it.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Lucien. It was Lucien.

Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he'd run from the shore.

His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little. But Elain only wrapped her arms around herself and remained at my side.

'Are you hurt?' he asked, coming toward us. Spying the blood speckling Elain's hands.

He halted short as he noticed the King of Hybern's decapitated head on the other side of the clearing. Nesta was still showered with his blood.

'I'm fine,' Elain said quietly. And then asked, noticing the gore on him, the torn clothes and still-bloody weapons, 'Are you-'

'Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but... yes, I'm in one piece.'

A faint smile bloomed on Elain's lips. But Lucien noticed that scorched patch of grass behind us and said, 'I heard- what happened. I'm sorry for your loss. All of you.'

I just strode to him and threw my arms around his neck, even if it wasn't the embrace he was hoping for. 'Thank you- for coming. With the battle, I mean.'

'I've got one hell of a story to tell you,' he said, squeezing me tightly.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?"- Lucien Vanserra”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Her eyes were the brown of a fawn's coat. And he could have sworn something sparked in them as she met his gaze.

'Who are you?'

He knew without demanding clarification that she was aware of what he was to her.

'I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.'

And a whole lot of nothing.
...
For a long moment, Elain's face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. 'Lucien,' she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth. 'From my sister's stories. Her friend.'

'Yes.'

But Elain blinked slowly. 'You were in Hybern.'

'Yes.' It was all he could say.

'You betrayed us.'

He wished she'd shoved him out the window behind her. 'It- it was a mistake.'

Her eyes were frank and cold. 'I was to be married in a few days.'

He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who'd claimed her and shred him apart. The words were a rasp as he instead said, 'I know. I'm sorry.'

She did not love him, want him, need him. Another male's bride.

A mortal man's wife. Or she would have been.

She looked away- toward the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly.

He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth.

'When I sleep,' she murmured, 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. 'Can you hear mine?'

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, 'No, lady. I cannot.'

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. 'No one ever does. No one ever looked- not really.' A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. 'He did. He saw me. He will not now.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Do you know,' Cassian drawled to her, 'that the last time I got into a brawl in this house, I was kicked out for a month?'

Nesta's burning gaze slid to him, still outraged- but hinted with incredulity.

He just went on, 'It was Amren's fault, of course, but no one believed me. And no one dared banish her.'

She blinked slowly.

But the burning, molten gaze became mortal. Or as mortal as one of us could be.

Until Lucien breathed, 'What are you?'

Cassian didn't seem to dare take his focus off Nesta. But my sister slowly looked at Lucien.

'I made it give something back,' she said with terrifying quiet. The Cauldron. The hairs along my arms rose. Nesta's gaze flicked to the carpet, then to a spot on the wall. 'I wish to go to my room.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“This eye,' Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. 'It can see things that others... can't. Spells, glamours... Perhaps it can help me find her. And break her curse.' He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. 'I'm not needed here. I'll fight if you need me to, but...' He offered me a grim smile. 'I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I'm willing to bet I'm not longer welcome at h- the Spring Court.' Home, he had almost said. 'But I cannot sit here and do nothing. Those queens with their armies- there is a threat in that regard, too. So use me. Send me. I will find Vassa, see if she can... bring help.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“It will be- very dangerous.'

A half smile curved Lucien's mouth. 'Good. It'd be boring otherwise.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“I stepped forward, and didn't give Lucien time to step back as I hugged him tightly. 'Thank you,' I said, trying not to think about all the steel on him- if he'd need to use it.

'It was time,' Lucien said quietly, giving me a squeeze. 'For me to do something.'

I pulled away, surveying his scarred face. 'Thank you,' I said again. It was all I could think of to say.

Rhys extended a hand to Lucien.

Lucien studied it- then my mate's face. I could nearly see all the hateful words they'd spoken. Dangling between them, between that outstretched hand and Lucien's own.

But Lucien took Rhys's hand. That silent offer of not only transportation.

Before that dark wind swept in, Lucien looked back.

Not to me, I realised- to someone behind me.

Pale and thin, Elain stood atop the stairs.

Their gazes locked and held.

But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward.

Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye- the longing and sadness.

And when Lucien turned to signal to Rhys to go... He did not glance back at Elain.

Did not see the half step she took toward the stairs- as if she'd speak to him. Stop him.

Then Rhys was gone, and Lucien with him.

When I turned to offer Elain breakfast, she'd already walked away.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. 'I heard you made the killing blow,' he said.

Elain studied the trees ahead. 'Nesta did. I just stabbed him.'

Lucien seemed to fumble for a response, but I said to him, 'So where now? Off with Vassa?' I wondered if he'd heard of Tamlin's role- the help he'd given us. A look at my friend showed me he had. Someone, perhaps my mate, had informed him.

Lucien shrugged. 'First- here. To help. Then...' Another glance at Elain. 'Who knows?'

I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted. 'You could come to Velaris.'

He saw all of it, but nodded graciously. 'It would be my pleasure.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Lucien claimed you would come,' Tamlin said by way of greeting, voice as flat and lifeless as his eyes, a hand still braced on the door.

'Funny, I thought his mate was the seer.'

Tamlin only stared at me, either ignoring or missing the humour. 'What do you want?'

No whisper of sound behind him. On any acre of this estate. Not even a note of birdsong. 'I came to have a little chat,' I offered him a half grin that I knew made him see red. 'Can I trouble you for a cup of tea?”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“And what, exactly, does this Band of Exiles plan to do? Host events? Organise party-planning committees?'

Lucien's metal eye clicked faintly and narrowed. 'You can be as much of an asshole as that mate of yours, you know that?'

True. I sighed again. 'I'm sorry. I just-'

'I don't have anywhere else to go.' Before I could object, he said. 'You ruined any chance I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit. And as for here...' He shook off my grip and headed for the door. 'I can't stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes. I can't stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Frost and Starlight

“Whatever he said or did, Tamlin decided he wishes to remain in solitude.' His russet eye darkened. 'Your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male.'

'I can't say I'm particularly sorry that he did.'

'You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully.'

I didn't want to think about it, consider it, today. Any day. 'My business with him is done.'

'Yours might be, but Rhys's isn't. And you'd do well to remind your mate of that fact.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Frost and Starlight

“The black water nipping at her thrashing heels was freezing.

Not the bite of winter chill, or even the burn of solid ice, but something colder. Deeper.

The cold of the gaps between stars, teh cold of a world before light.

The cold of hell- true hell, she realised as she bucked against the strong hands trying to shove her into the Cauldron.

True hell, because that was Elain lying on the stone floor with the red-haired, one-eyed Fae male hovering over her. Because those were pointed ears poking through her sister's sodden gold-brown hair, and an immortal glow radiating from Elain's fair skin.

True hell- worse than the inky depths mere inches from her toes.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Nesta threw another series of punches, and Cassian knew she was leading up to the knockout blow. Two left jabs and a right hook that slammed into the wood so hard it splintered.

And then she stopped, her first pressed against the wood.

Her panting breath swirled from her mouth in the frigid rain.

Slowly, she straightened, fist lowering, steam rippling through her teeth as she turned. He caught a flicker of silver fire in her eyes, then it vanished. Lucien had gone still.

Nesta stalked toward the two males. She met Lucien's stare as she approached the archway, and said nothing before continuing into the House. As if words were beyond her.

Only when her footsteps vanished did Lucien say, 'Mother spare you.'

Cassian was already walking to the wooden beam.

A small disc of impact lay in its centre, through the padding, all the way to the wood itself. It glowed. Cassian raised shaking fingers to it.

To the burn mark, still sparking like an ember.

The entire wood block was smouldering from within. He touched his palm to it. The wood was cold as ice.

The block dissolved into a pile of cinders.

Cassian stared in stunned silence, the smoking wood hissing in the rain.

Lucien came up beside him. He only said again, voice solemn, 'Mother spare you all.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“This eye,' Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. 'It can see things that others... can't. Spells, glamours... Perhaps it can help me find her. And break her curse.' He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. 'I'm not needed here. I'll fight if you need me to, but...' He offered me a grim smile. 'I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I'm willing to bet I'm no longer welcome at h- the Spring Court.' Home, he had almost said. 'But I cannot sit here and do nothing. Those queens with their armies- there is a threat in that regard, too. So use me. Send me. I will find Vassa, see if she can... bring help.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“I can stomach being around him.'

'I'm sure he'd love to hear that thrilling endorsement.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Frost and Starlight

“By the Cauldron,' a familiar male voice said beside Cassian, and he turned to find Lucien in the archway to the training area. ... 'Feyre said she was training, but I hadn't realised she was... well, training.'
...
'Did you think she was filing her nails?'

Lucien's mechanical eye clicked. His face tightened as Nesta threw a spectacular left hook into the wood beam. It shuddered with the impact. 'I wonder if there are some things that should not be awoken,' he murmured.

Cassian cut him a glare. 'Mind your own business, fireling.'

Lucien just watched Nesta attack, his golden skin a little pale.

'Why are you here?' Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. 'Where's Elain?'

'I am not always in the city to see my mate.' The last two words dripped with discomfort. 'And I came up here because Feyre said I should. I need to kill a few hours before I'm to meet with her and Rhys. She thought I might enjoy seeing Nesta at work.'

'She's not a carnival attraction,' Cassian said through his teeth.

'It's not for entertainment.' Lucien's red hair gleamed in the dimness of the rainy day. 'I think Feyre wanted a progress assessment from someone who hasn't seen her in a while.

'And?' Cassian bit out.

Lucien threw him a withering look. 'I'm not your enemy, you know. You can drop the aggressive brute act.'

Cassian gave him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. 'Who says it's an act?'

Lucien let out a long sigh. 'Very well.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“How's the training?'

She gave him a smile- a true one. 'Good. We're learning how to disembowel a male.'

Lucien choked on his drink, nearly spewing it onto her head. Cassian appeared, a cup of tea steaming in his hands, and passed it to her before he declared proudly to Lucien, 'As you'd expect, Nes excels at it.'

Mor lifted her glass in a mockery of a toast. 'My favourite part of training.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Lucien squeezed our linked arms as we rounded a hedge, the house rising up before us. “You are a better friend to me, Feyre,” he said quietly, “than I ever was to you.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin