In that cocoon of darkness, she bided her time, letting him think her gone, letting them do what they wanted to the mortal shell around her. It was in that cocoon where the shadowfire began to flicker, fueling her, feeding her. Long ago, when she was small and clean, flames of gold had crackled at her fingers, secret and hidden. Then they vanished, as all good things had vanished.
She didn’t tell the Healer on High that she wasn’t entirely sure how much longer she’d be a help – not yet. Hadn’t whispered a word of that doubt to anyone, even Chaol. Yrene’s hand drifted across her abdomen and lingered.
He laughed, surprised he could even do so. “He’s a handsome bastard, I’ll give him that.” “I think Maeve likes to collect pretty men.” Aedion snorted. “Why not? She has to deal with them for eternity. They might as well be pleasant to look at.” She laughed again, and the sound loosed a weight from his shoulders.
Isn’t that what all human women wish for? A handsome faerie lord to wed and shower them with riches for the rest of their lives?
Like Hasar, she isn’t an easy person to be with, to understand. Aelin frightens everyone.” He snorted. “But not him. I think that’s why she fell in love with him, against her best intentions. Rowan beheld all Aelin was and is, and he was not afraid.
I had become the music and the fire and the night, and there was nothing that could slow me down.
Gone was the witch who had slept and wished for death.
You’ll find out when my fangs are buried in your neck,” she said. “Why not right now?” Cain breathed. “Come on – hit me. Hit me with all that rage you feel every time you force yourself to miss the bull’s-eye, or when you slow yourself down so you don’t scale walls as fast as me. Hit me, Lillian,” he whispered so only she could hear, “and let’s see what that year in Endovier really taught you.” Celaena’s heart leapt into a gallop. He knew. He knew who she was, and what she was doing.
Perhaps it is our lot – to never have the fathers we wish, but to still hope they might surpass what they are, flaws and all.
If I end my life defending those who need it most, then I will consider it a death well spent.
They were blurring. The lies and truths and memories. Sleep and the blackness in the iron coffin. The days bound to the stone altar in the center of the room, or hanging from a hook in the ceiling, or strung up between chains anchored into the stone wall. It was all beginning to blur, like ink in water.
The curving stones of the gateway loomed, and she drew the sword from her back with her right hand, her left hand enveloped in flame.
She traced Celaena’s cheekbone, where the bruises had once been. “Where do men find it in themselves to do such monstrous things? How do they find it acceptable?” “We’ll make them pay for it in the end.” Celaena grasped Ansel’s hand. The girl squeezed back hard. “We’ll see to it that they pay.” “Yes.” Ansel shifted her gaze back to the stars. “Yes, we will.
He nodded. “And how old are you?” “Eighteen.” But he said nothing. “I know,” she continued. “It is impressive that I accomplished so much at such an early age.” “Crime isn’t an accomplishment, Sardothien.
If there were music and movements that embodied the wildness and recklessness and immortality of youth, they were here, on this dance floor. Doneval.
Then Rhys groaned, “If we’re all here, either things went very, very wrong or very right.
I was well aware how wildly I loved him, but looking at him then... I felt it in every pore of my body, felt it as if it might crush me, consume me.
It was simple as an incision. To sever the link between their minds – and to sever another part of her. To tie off the gift that allowed her to jump between places. To open those portals. World-walker no longer, he said as his raw magic shifted her own. Changed its very essence. I suggest you invest in a good pair of shoes. Then he let go of Maeve’s mind.
This is Truth-Teller... It has never failed me once... Some people say it has magic and will always strike true. He gentle took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. It will serve you well.
From me,” Kaltain said, in a voice that was dead and hollow and yet vicious. “It has always been there – asleep. And now it has been awoken. Shaped anew.