They are not always green, your eyes. Sometimes they are blue like the sky. In Camelot, they are gray like the stones. I like green and blue better.
Being chosen is easy. Making choices will break your heart.
She took the flower. “Thank you,” she whispered. Relief and gratitude swelled in her. Mordred was on her side. Guinevere tucked the flower beneath her dress, against her heart, where it would be both secret and safe.
Lada nodded. But here, in this sweltering cell, far from her people and her land, she did not feel like a dragon. For the first time in a long time, she felt like a girl. It terrified her. Because there was nothing in the world more vulnerable to be than a girl.
Change we don’t choose is hard. Trauma puts things inside your soul you never asked for. Sure, sometimes it’s demonic. But sometimes it’s just growing up.
Your father was a fool and a coward, but his choices shaped you into the fearsome creature you are. I do not want to imagine a world in which you are not you.
They revolved around her as though she were the Earth, and they were the adoring but distant sun and moon and stars. It was a type of magic in and of itself.
Your name is who you are, what defines you. Ancient Egyptians even believed names themselves had power. You take away someone’s name, or change it, you’re taking away a part of them. You are your name.
But yes, love as cancer holds up quite well. Something that grows inside of you against your will and without your consent, slowly taking over more and more vital parts until it kills you. That fits nicely.
He mapped my own veins with his fingers, plotting the course of my heart.
A dragon did not crawl on its belly in front of its enemies... A dragon burned everything around herself until it was purified in ash.
So we stand, occupying the space, watching as ordinary ingredients combine into something we hope will be magic.
Guinevere had never actually attended a Christian church service before. Merlin had no use for the Romans’ castoff. But Arthur had taken to it, and Guinevere could see why. Everyone was gathered in the same large wooden building. The ceiling soared overhead. It was simple but elegant. Clean. They all sat on the same level. Everyone listened to the same prayers, performed the same actions. It was an equalizer. And it gave the people something in common with each other. Something to unify them.
A dragon burned everything around herself until it was purified in ash.
He is like the sun. When he is focused on you, everything is bright and warm. Everything is possible. But the problem with knowing the warmth of the sun is how keenly you feel it’s absence when it shines elsewhere. And a king must always shine elsewhere.
Guinevere realized with a start that what she missed most about Mordred was the sense that he saw her. In every room, in every situation, he had seen her first and foremost.
If I fail, then it is over. My dream is dead. I have nothing to build a future around. And if I succeed... I step past everything I have known into everything I have wanted.
There was nothing in the world as magical and terrifying as a girl on the cusp of womanhood.
I am never in the dark when I am protecting you.
Love should feel urgent. A rush of emotion, an inescapable need. A spark and passion that consumed everything, that burned away caution and fear and left only desire.