What about my kiss?
She was drunk, and silly, and so full of the glory of being young and alive and in the capital of the world that she could hardly contain herself.
When Sam had died, she had tucked him into her heart, tucked him alongside her other beloved dead, whose names she kept so secret she sometimes forgot them. But Nehemia – Nehemia wouldn’t fit. It was as if her heart was too full of the dead, too full of those lives that had ended well before their time.
At the sound of the word, she saw a land of pine and snow, of sun-bleached cliffs and white-capped seas, a land where light was swallowed in the velvety green of bumps and hollows – a land that she had forgotten.
That I would never be a gentle grower of things, or someone who burned like fire-but that i would be quiet and enduring and faceted as the night. That I would have beauty, for those who knew where to look, and if people didn’t bother to look, but only fear it... Then I didn’t particularly care for them, anyway.
He’d followed. She’d known it in her bones, her blood. He’d kept high in the skies, but he’d followed until she’d entered the building. She knew he was now waiting on a nearby rooftop to see her light kindle. Twin instincts warred within her: to leave the faelight untouched and make him wait in the freezing dark, or to ignite that bowl and just get rid of his presence. Get rid of everything he was.
Sometimes she felt bad for Danika’s future mate, whoever that would be. The poor bastard wouldn’t know what hit him when he bound himself to her.
Manon smirked at Lorcan. “Your claim on her, male, is at the very bottom of the list.
The water gripped her ankles with phantom hands, tugging her down. So she twisted, wrenching her arm free from the guard who held it. And so she pointed. One finger – at the king. Down down down that water wanted to pull her. But Nesta Archeron still pointed at the King of Hybern. A death-promise. A target marked. Hands shoved her into the water’s awaiting claws. And Nesta Archeron laughed at the fear that crept into the king’s eyes. Just before the water devoured her whole.
Aedion hadn’t dared tell the shifter that he often counted the minutes until she returned, that his chest always felt unbearably tight until he spotted whatever winged or finned form she wore returning to them.
He’d think about that later.
The Yulemas Ball. Maybe earlier. Maybe even Samhuinn, when I brought you this ring. But Yulemas was the first time I realized I didn’t like the idea of you with – with someone else.
He values loyalty, cunning, compassion.
Gods, the females in his court ate more than he did. He supposed magic burned through their energies so fast it was a miracle they weren’t constantly biting his head off.
Gods, without his magic... Humans were remarkable. To be able to survive without leaning on magic... He had to give them credit.
Despite herself, despite what she’d done, she decided she wanted Rowan to call her milady at least once every day.
Because for Terrasen, for Erilea, Elena would walk into the eternal darkness lurking across the valley to buy them all a chance. Elena sent up a final prayer on a pillar of smoke rising from the valley floor that the unborn, faraway scions of this night, heirs to a burden that would doom or save Erilea, would forgive her for what she was about to do.
Helion let out a dark laugh.
Witches, the townsfolk whispered, husbands wide-eyed and disbelieving as the women took to the skies, red cloaks billowing. Witches amongst us all this time.
And I wondered if my face had appeared like that – the day I’d first seen Velaris. The mix of awe and anger and the realization that the world was large, and beautiful, and sometimes so overwhelming in its wonder that it was impossible to drink it down all at once.