When you’re a teenager, being different- if it’s not by choice – seems like the worst thing imaginable. But is it really?
Even the strongest blizzards start with a single snowflake.
Fear is a seed that, once planted, never stops growing.
That’s why literature is so fascinating. It’s always up for interpretation, and could be a hundred different things to a hundred different people. It’s never the same thing twice.
The most powerful magic of all is choice.
No one should be forced to be something they aren’t.
I don’t need made-up strength. I’m strong enough on my own – me, Meira, no magic or conduit or anything.
That’s how relationships work – when one person is blind, the other must see for them. When one person struggles, the other must remain strong.
Congratulations, everyone,” I announce as I open the door to Noam’s study. “You’ve finally broken Meira, the crazy, orphaned soldier-girl. She’s snapped, all thanks to the mention of floral arrangements.
I’m Hannah’s daughter. I’m Winter’s conduit. I’m a warrior, a soldier, a lady, a queen, and most of all, as I plunge across the snowfield toward Jannuari’s silent ruin, I’m Meira.
One flake falls, twisting down through the empty sky. One frozen speck of snow. Then another, and another, and before I know it the roads will be covered in dozens of distinct flakes. All these little pieces combining to create one giant, volatile snowstorm, something beautiful and dangerous and epic.
No matter our dire circumstances, no matter our shared upbringing, no matter the chill his smile sends over my body, he’s still him, and I’m still me, and yes, he needs to have a female heir someday, but with a proper lady, a duchess or a princess – not the girl who spars with him.