The straw-coated floor crunched beneath her boots, a cool breeze sweeping in from where the roof had been ripped half off thanks to Sorrel’s bull. To keep the wyverns from feeling less caged – and so Abraxos could watch the stars, as he liked to do.
It would take time, he knew – for it to stop hurting, to let go. But the pain wouldn’t last forever.
The night she’d been captured, she’d also snapped, and come SO CLOSE to killing the person she most wanted to destroy before someone knocked her out and she awoke in a rotting dungeon. She smiled bitterly as she opened her eyes. It was always the same story, the same loss.
Your remind me of what the world ought to be; what the world can be.
The prince’s eyes shone with amusement at her brashness but lingered a bit too long on her body.
Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house – your people. I can think of no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most.” I.
Aelin had known, though. That he was her mate. And she had not pushed it, or demanded he face it, because she loved him, and he knew she’d rather carve out her own heart than cause him pain or distress. His Fireheart. His equal, his friend, his lover. His wife. His mate.
His summons was answered quickly this time. Yet it was not Gavin who emerged, shimmering, from the night air. Dorian’s magic flared, rallying to strike, as the figure took form. As Kaltain Rompier, clad in an onyx gown and dark hair unbound, smiled sadly at him.
Nehemia stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “You have power in you, Prince. More power than you realize.” She touched his chest, tracing a symbol there, too, and some of the court ladies gasped. But Nehemia’s eyes were locked on his “It sleeps,” she whispered, tapping his heart. “In here. When the time comes, when it awakens, do not be afraid.” She removed her hand and game him a sad smile. “When it is time, I will help you.
No longer would they be locked away in her heart. No longer would she be ashamed.
This is Velaris,” I explained. “The City of Starlight.” His throat bobbed. “And you are High Lady of the Night Court.” “Indeed she is.” My blood stopped at the voice that drawled from behind me. At the scent that hit me, awoke me.
Fight it. We get to come back.
If you learn to endure pain, you can survive anything.
What is that?” Manon asked, sniffing subtly. Kaltain just squeezed Elide’s fingers. “You find Celaena Sardothien. Give her this. No one else. No one else. Tell her that you can open any door, if you have the key. And tell her to remember her promise to me – to punish them all. When she asks why, tell her I said that they would not let me bring the cloak she gave me, but I kept a piece of it. To remember that promise she made. To remember to repay her for a warm cloak in a cold dungeon.” Kaltain.
He opened his mouth, but stopped as he beheld her smile. Though she had no regrets about her choice, she felt something strangely like disappointment when he said, “As you wish.
The Stag, the Lord of the North. So the people of Terrasen will always know how to find their way home. So they can look up at the sky, no matter where they are and know Terrasen is forever with them.
As she walked through the foggy streets toward the ramshackle docks, Celaena had prayed Yrene Towers wasn’t foolish enough to tell anyone – especially the innkeeper – about the money. Prayed Yrene Towers seized her life with both hands and set out for the pale-stoned city of Antica. Prayed that somehow, years from now, Yrene Towers would return to this continent, and maybe, just maybe, heal their shattered world a little bit.
She forgot about time as she drifted between pieces, voicing the unspeakable, opening old wounds, playing and playing as the sound forgave and saved her.
The Mute Master had told her that people dealt with their pain in different ways – that some chose to drown it, some chose to love it, and some chose to let it turn into rage.
Aelin didn’t know when she started crying, when her body began shaking with the force of it. She had never said such words- to anyone. Never let herself be that vulnerable, never felt this burning and unending thing, so consuming she might die from the force of it.