Quotes About Control

It would be so easy-my right hand on his right wrist, pull and step, left arm across his throat, whirl and spread my arms, like a dance, and he would drop spine-down over my thigh, snap: less than three seconds, start to finish-but a broken boy would help nothing.

The king would never let Hild go, not now. Not until she was dead or of no more use.

Edwin smiled at her, that spreading, lard-melt smile of a king roping his subject, harnessing her to his purpose.

She had no idea why it was important and her heart was kicking like a hare. But she had been trained to show a still face so she raised her own mantle and looked back.

Was it her true nature to take from others her own power?

Priest or not, I will have you whipped if you try to leave. Who's to stop me, who in all the world? Only the king, and he gives me what I ask. So who is to stop me? No one." "Then I tell you truly you must learn to stop yourself.

Saying what made people in power think well of you was as much a habit for Breguswith as showing her curves was for Gwladus.

Anger isn't a bad thing. It's just a feeling. Learn it. Understand it.

If she had just asked! But no. She pushes me into a corner where there's no choice." "It's what women do: weave the web, pull the strings, herd into the corner. It's their only power. Unless they're seers.

The killer child was her mistress. For now.

She understood why a king often threatened violence. It felt good, and it worked.

It was strange, seeing her in clothes I had not bought or lent her, drinking wine she had selected without my advice, without needing me there.

She waited patiently, which made him nervous. Royalty were rarely patient unless they were toying with you.

Her back was very straight as she walked away, despite the fact that, on top of jet lag, she must have been up all night taking charge of my life.

A man was lord of his own hall, king or no.

It was a look Hild recognised: a cat watching a stunned mouse in no hurry to kill. Who was his smile for?

Guns can be a distraction, a dangerous focus of one's authority, a crutch. Many come to depend on them: take away the gun and you take away their identity.

Holding secrets, her mother said, made a man feel mighty.

The loft was as I remembered-rich carpet, polished floors, and stark brick support pillars all brilliantly lit, even with no one at home-only now whenever I looked I saw that unfeeling mind at work, controlling, manipulating, hiding.

You're mine. You'll grow old in my household, die warm and well fed. You're my bodywoman. Some services I'll require, from time to time. But I won't…I won't.

I didn't believe in ki, or the energy from the earth, or light shooting out of fingertips, but the fact was, when I relaxed and thought about energy flowing smooth and liquid through my arms, my arm didn't bend.

If she used weapons the way she used words, no one would stand against her; they'd have no idea where the stroke would fall next.

He rested his palm on the pommel of his sword in what Peretur recognized not as a threat but the habit of a possessive man reassuing himself of his treasure. Mine. This is mine and you may not have it.

Command isolated her more effectively than a deadly disease.