Battle Royal Quotes

“In fiction, falling in love seemed to happen in soft focus, all cheerful montages of pop music and soulful glances. In reality, it was raw and confronting, powerful and passionate, shifting every goalpost.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Death is not the end of love.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“No need for the jealous alpha wolf act."
Coolly, he said, "Jealousy is a destructive, pointless emotion and a complete waste of energy."
"Fairly annoying, then, that it's seeping from your pores right now?"
"Very.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“But it wasn't the photograph that caught her attention. It was what was tucked into the frame.
Dominic's eyes followed hers. And a tinge of color appeared in his cheeks.
Walking over, the butterflies skittering about her stomach, Sylvie reached out and touched the intricate little silhouette portrait of her own face. Her eyes lifted to Dominic's in-the-flesh face, which was currently much stiffer than that paper.
"Pet," he said. "She cut a couple of portraits in here one day when we were talking about Operation Cake. Yours and Mariana's."
"Yes. I saw Mariana's after you gave it to her." She ran her fingers around the paper contour of her plait, dropped her hand to the desk. "You didn't give me mine, though."
"No, I didn't."
"Because... we didn't get along? And you wanted to keep Pet's artwork?"
"I did want to have some of Pet's art." Dominic's jaw ticked. "And somewhere along the line, I wanted that one in particular."
Sylvie swallowed.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Death is not the end of love. In any and all of its forms.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“I'm equal parts terrified and aroused."
"What an excellent relationship motto for us. I think I'll embroider it on a cushion.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Do men even have a favorite flower?"
"Ooh." The exclamation came from the doorway. Pet was leaning against the frame, fanning her face. "What was that I just walked into? A sudden puff of toxic masculinity? How doubly disappointing from the blokes who can turn all that gorgeous lace and pearls into three-dimensional, edible reality.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Breathing deeply, she whispered, "You don't taste the way you smell."
Dominic shifted, his own fingers trailing down her neck, skimming a tantalizing path over her breast that made her legs shake. "I'm not sure how to respond to that." His voice was deep. Husky.
"The sugar scents cling to your hair and the fibers of your clothes." She moved her head, gently nuzzling into the silvering hair at his temple. "I thought you might taste like cake twenty-four seven."
Less husky. "I do brush my teeth."
"I know. Minty fresh. Delicious," she assured him. "I'm just saying, I like cake. It would have been nice.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Don't do it on the desk. The front left leg is wobbling again. Should the entire thing collapse, I will make sure your headstone says DEAD GIVING HEAD, SHOULD HAVE USED A BED.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Rosie and Johnny's relationship was being ripped to shreds, with the press and public pawing over the pieces like wild dogs.
The emotional chasm between Dominic and Pet had been torn even wider.
Apparently, Sylvie had been wasting time, money, and ingredients for months, constantly defending this woman to Jay.
And someone intimately connected to the Starlight Circus had just called her décor "kitsch."
"Penny," she said very calmly, with a smile just as vague, just as airy, and just as malicious, "get the fuck out of my home."
Penny tossed her head---and froze as Mabel walked toward her, hips swinging, also smiling.
That smile had more eerie impact than every lighting effect in the Dark Forest combined.
The intern took a step back, but halted in momentary confusion when Mabel offered her the lollipop.
She took the candy skull automatically, and then shrieked as Mabel---tiny, deceptively delicate Mabel---made a blur of a movement with her foot and Penny tumbled across her shoulders.
Whistling, Mabel walked toward the back door and out into the alley, wearing Penny around her neck like a scarf. Through the window, Sylvie watched as her assistant calmly threw the intern into the dumpster.
As a stream of profanity drifted from the piles of rubbish--most of which, incidentally, was all the ingredients Penny had purposely wasted--Mabel returned to the kitchen.
"I'll be off, then," she said, collecting her bag and coat from their hook.
"Have a good night," Sylvie returned serenely.
As Mabel passed her, without turning her head or altering her expression, their hands fleetingly clasped.
The door swung closed, leaving Sylvie alone with Dominic in a lovely, clean kitchen, while her former intern made a third cross attempt to clamber from the trash.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Opening a small metal box, she added a pinch of blue salts to the syrup mixture and blew on the cauldron. A burst of smoke puffed up, sending a dusting of glitter particles spinning in the lights. He turned his head to follow the twinkling trail, and she slanted a sideways smile. "Magic."
"Predictable chemical reaction," he returned, examining the box of salts. "And once again in your company, I have glitter in my hair."
"And your stubble. Bit of technicolor glam to liven up the grays. You're welcome.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“I should punch him."
She looked absolutely thrilled. "Could you?"
"Of course I could," he said, vaguely offended. He held up a hand. Fisted it. "I have hands." He turned his wrist to examine his fist from multiple angles. It was very satisfactory. "Big ones."
"Yes, you do." In the dim light, Sylvie's wide eyes looked more black than hazel. "Huge. I've noticed that before." The last words dropped, low and husky.
Sexy.
"Have you?" Deep. Gravelly.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Finally, with a significant look, she put one finger on Sylvie's trinity knot and another finger on Dominic's trinity knot. She drew them into the central panel.
The knots touched and locked together.
And became a Serch Bythol.
The symbol for everlasting love.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“The overhead lights hit the Serch Bythol sculpture on the utmost tier, the sugar crystals shimmering and dancing like a cascade of diamonds. The planes of the cake beneath were clean and crisp, and the sugar-stained glass panels caught every light on the ceiling, throwing back shimmering rainbow rays. Sylvie was most proud of the silhouette that circled the middle stained-glass tiers--the skylines of London and Johnny's family estate in Lancashire. Only when viewed at close range did a second, hidden skyline emerge from within the reflective depths---the fantasy lands of I, Slayer, complete with a tiny, flying dragon. It was a work of art---and even now, she was taken aback by the level of harmony they had achieved, twinning together two very different styles.
In honor of the union of two very different people, whose lives would hopefully interlock just as successfully.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Dominic was rubbing his cheek against her head when his body stiffened. "What is that?"
"What?" She was trying to wiggle her fingers in between his shirt buttons without anyone else seeing. She liked the feel of his chest hair beneath her skin.
Although her onetime comment comparing it to petting Humphrey was a mistake she wouldn't repeat.
"In the sugar bubble on the second tier." Dominic was dropping into his Operation Cake tone, which only made her want to open all the buttons. "What is that?"
"Probably another dragon," she said airily, rubbing him and making a shiver run through his big body. "We agreed on including Caractacus."
"Yes. We agreed on the dragon. We did not agree on other crea..." He couldn't seem to help running his fingers down her spine, but she felt the moment he realized what he was looking at. His words became dangerously even. "It has a horn."
"You're seeing things." A soothing pet on his pec.
"It has hooves." Unmistakable outrage.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
In public, he was still usually a little more reserved, but he swung her around now, properly into his arms. His brows had lifted pointedly, but he was unable to fully repress that laugh she loved so much. His forehead came down to rest on hers. "God, you're lucky I adore you."
Sylvie was smiling as she slipped her arms around his shoulders. "And despite your hopeless lack of imagination and tragic inclination toward minimalism, I love you madly.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“You're an entertainer at best. Not a baker."
-- Dominic De Vere, maker of cakes, eater of crow”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“There was nothing wrong with a solitary life. In fact, even if you didn’t intrinsically want a solitary life, there were still times when it was fucking bliss to spend long hours in your own company. Essential. Bonus points if the cat was upstairs in his own room. However, the feeling of absolute faith that when the cracks started to appear, someone else would be crouching at your side, helping to bail out the water, and that you could do the same for them— Pretty indescribable.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“I wish you felt free. But I need you to be safe.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Is your brother really such a surly bastard, they ask. Of course not; inside, he's a teddy bear, say I...
and then he opens his mouth.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“If you were just irredeemably shit, he plastered on the haughty android stare and mentally went to sleep.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“She was always glad to see good things happen for good people, even if they operated in her professional sphere, but outside of the bedroom, nobody liked a bigheaded dick.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“She was distracted from her speculation, however, when he opened his mouth and uttered the sexiest words a man had ever spouted in the history of orgasms. "We have cheesecake in the fridge.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“He went in for elegant minimalism. She rarely saw an object that couldn’t be improved with sequins. She was, aesthetically, his worst nightmare”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Don’t do it on the desk. The front left leg is wobbling again. Should the entire thing collapse, I will make sure your headstone says DEAD GIVING HEAD, SHOULD HAVE USED A BED.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“You’d think he was here for a ritual disemboweling, not to be paid my annual salary for a few weeks of part-time work. All he has to do is stand there and tell people they’re failing to live up to their potential. My mum’s been doing it my whole life for free.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“He's clearly not suited to the public rigors of this role. Encouraging the delusions of a mentally ill---"
Johnny had finally reached his limit.
"That's it." Releasing Rosie, he walked to the door and pulled it open. "Your Highness. Lancier. Get out."
Sylvie couldn't repress an instinctive snort at the look on the duchess's face.
Every affronted, outraged GIF in history had just come to life in this room.
If the Prince of Wales never had a child, it was possible that the Duchess of Albany could one day become Queen Consort.
At the very least, she would hopefully much sooner become Johnny's mother-in-law.
He did not give one single shit.
"Out," he said again, his entire demeanor brooking no opposition.
The duchess was the most stereotypical type of bully. When faced with a dose of her own medicine, she retreated.
With a malevolent glare at the offspring who'd foisted this man on her.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“Sylvie,” he said. “I need help.” She looked back silently. And her fingers moved to interlock with his.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“We're going to be late. And there's nothing I enjoy more than waltzing with a room full of people who'll be thrilled my fiancé is cheating on me. It enlivens the supper."
Sylvie winced, but the cold sarcasm made no impact on Johnny. He shook his head. "You don't give a shit about any of them. All your Christmases came at once when that story broke yesterday."
A flash went through Rosie's defiant eyes.
That shot had hit home.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“As much as you hate my guts, we both have a vested interest in Sylvie's happiness. She's so worried about you that she's physically shaking. If you hurt her---then you and I have a serious problem.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal

“It's evident which drawing came from which mind," Johnny said with a small grin, and certainly, the pâte de verre flowers and spiraling tiers of Sylvie's cake said "Sugar Fair" as distinctly as the clean lines and elegant piping pointed to De Vere's. "But..."
But at the essential level, the cakes were remarkably similar. They had both chosen a stained-glass effect, constructed entirely from blown sugar, each tier designed to catch the light and cast a shimmering cascade of color. Peony poppies, primroses, and petunias glittered within the sugar glass.
And on the highest tier, the Midnight Elixir cake, they had both incorporated a trinity knot.”
― Lucy Parker, Battle Royal