I hope you spend the rest of your miserable, immortal life suffering. I hope you spend it alone. I hope you live with regret and guilt in your heart and never find a way to endure it.
I think love should make you happy,” Elide said, remembering her mother and father. How often they had smiled and laughed, how they had gazed at each other.” It should make you into the best possible version of yourself.
I won’t allow another immigrant purge to happen. I don’t ever want my sister’s children coming home with broken noses again because of their foreign blood.
She brushed the hair from his eyes. Someday, they would both lay down their swords and daggers and arrows. And by leaving Rifthold, by leaving the Guild, they’d take the first step toward that day, even if they had to keep working as assassins for a few more years at least.
She sealed the Wyrdgate.” Yrene scowled. “The least they could do is be grateful for it.” “Oh, I have no doubt they are,” Chaol said, frowning now as well. “But the fact remains that Aelin promised one thing, and did the opposite.
A game, then. A bit of information to hold against her, to keep from her until it was useful. It didn’t matter if it was valuable information or not; it was the withholding, the power of it, that he loved.
And that one,” Ansel said, pointing to the next stall, “is named Kasida – it means ‘drinker of the wind’ in the desert dialect.” Kasida’s name was fitting. The slender mare was a dapple gray, with a sea-foam white mane and thundercloud coat. She huffed and stomped her forelegs, staring at Celaena with eyes that seemed older than the earth itself. Celaena suddenly understood why the Asterion horses were worth their weight in gold.
High Lord of Prythian indeed. High Lord of Foolery was more like it.
Each step was flawless, lethal, like that first time they’d sparred together so many months ago. She knew his every move and he knew hers, as though they’d been dancing this waltz together all their lives. Faster, never faltering, never breaking her stare. The rest of the world quieted into nothing. In that moment, after ten long years, Celaena looked at Chaol and realized she was home.
Aedion just hoped Death arrived before Aelin did.
Hope – that was what he carried with him. The hope of a better world that Aedion and Sorscha and Dorian had sacrificed themselves for.
When the horses were too winded to keep running, Ansel finally stopped atop a dune, Celaena pulling up beside her. Ansel looked at Celaena, wildness still rampant in her eyes. “Wasn’t that wonderful?” Breathing hard, Celaena didn’t say anything as she punched Ansel so hard in the face that the girl went flying off her horse and tumbled onto the sand. Ansel just clutched her jaw and laughed.
Lysandra had finally shifted back into her human form – and true to her oath months ago, her once-full breasts were now smaller. Despite what awaited them in the private dining room at the back of the inn, Aelin caught the shape-shifter’s eye and smirked. “Better?” she murmured over Evangeline’s head as Darrow’s messenger, Aedion at his side, strolled through the crowd. Lysandra’s grin was half feral. “Oh, you have no idea.” Behind them, Aelin could have sworn Rowan chuckled.
You Could Rattle The Stars If You Dare...
Without magic, without power, money has become the only thing that matters.
You’re even more dramatic than I am.
Celaena eyed the pianoforte. She used to play – oh, she’d loved to play, loved music, the way music could break and heal and make everything seem possible and heroic.
The occasional solo of the whip added to the symphony of brutality Adarlan had created for its greatest criminals, poorest citizens, and latest conquests.
Independent, unafraid.
She’d forgotten what it was like to be Fae, to have one foot always in the forest.