I’m sure you already know this, but you need to actually climb into a bath to get clean – not stare at it.
He felt as if there were something inside him that didn’t fit in with their merriment, with their willing ignorance of the world outside the castle.
Petrah held up a hand. “I am not finished, Iskra Yellowlegs.
Would this be her life, then? Wretched people, always looking out for themselves, every kindness coming at a cost? Would her own queen at least gaze at her with warmth in her eyes? Would Aelin even remember her?
Unmade and Made; Made and Unmade – that is the cycle. Like calls to like.
Lysandra had entered and passed out in her bed with no explanation for why or what she’d been doing beforehand. And since she was utterly unconscious, Aelin had just climbed into bed beside her.
The kitchen sounds turned muffled as she let herself spiral down, contemplating that horrible realization again and again: she could not remember what it was like to be free.
Someone who might-who did understand what it was like to be crippled at your very core, someone who was still climbing inch by inch out of that abyss.
While Aelin threw herself at the rungs lining the catapult’s wheeled base, and began pushing. Turning it. Away from Orynth, from the castle. Precisely as Aelin had told him Sam Cortland had done in Skull’s Bay, the catapult’s mechanisms allowed her to rotate its base.
The darkness belongs to you. To shape as you will. To give it power or render it harmless.
His lips were smooth against my skin, his breath warm, and my knees buckled as he lifted my other hand to his mouth and kissed it, too. Kissed it carefully – in a way that made heat begin pounding in my core, between my legs.
Whatever you do,” I said quietly, “don’t marry Tomas Mandray. His father beats his wife, and none of his sons do anything to stop it.” Nesta’s eyes widened, but I added, “Bruises are harder to conceal than poverty.
Welcome to the court, pup.
I promised Fury not to do anything stupid,” Bryce said, her eyes on Syrinx’s branded-out tattoo. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do anything smart.
They passed a series of wooden doors that she’d seen a few minutes ago. If she wanted to escape, she simply had to turn left at the next hallway and take the stairs down three flights. The only thing all the intended disorientation had accomplished was to familiarize her with the building. Idiots.
Up close, though, these warring hues were offset by the brilliant ring of gold around her pupils.
He was using his words as chains to bind her again.
And then finally, Aelin sat upon her throne. It weighed on her, nestled against her bones, that new burden. No longer an assassin. No longer a rogue princess. And when Aelin lifted her head to survey the cheering crowd, when she smiled, Queen of Terrasen and the Faerie Queen of the West she burned bright as a star.
The Queen of Terrasen was in a fighting pit in the slums of Rifthold.
But there was no place like this in the world. Not so serene. So loved by its people and its rulers.