I am worthless and I am nothing, Nesta nearly said. She wasn’t sure why the words bubbled up, pressing on her lips to voice them. I hate everything that I am. And I am so, so tired. I am tired of wanting to be anywhere but in my own head.
I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just don’t lock me out. You want to walk in silence for a week, I’m fine with that. So long as you talk to me at the end of it.
So Nesta had become a wolf. Armed herself with invisible teeth and claws, and learned to strike faster, deeper, more lethally. Had relished it. But when the time came to put away the wolf, she’d found it had devoured her too.
Whatever you need to throw at me, I can take it. I won’t break.
Welcome back to the Night Court, Nesta Archeron.
She would not be mastered by anything again. She was the master of herself.
Power lay in her hand. Death gripped her by the other.
The familiar male’s gaze snagged on her. “What’s her business here?” Nesta gave him a secretive smile. “Witchcraft.
The cold of the gaps between stars, the cold of a world before light.
She turned her head so slowly it was like watching a puppet move. Her eyes met his. Death watched him. But Death had walked beside him every day of his life. So Cassian stroked his thumb along her palm and said, “Hello, Nes.
You can’t have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.
Because my Mate taught me well.
The book,” Nesta repeated to herself, staring at her porridge, “is about a book.” She cupped her forehead in her hands. “Idiot.
I wish for us to have the courage to go out into the world when we are ready, but to always be able to find our way back to each other. No matter what.
Nesta tried – tried and failed – not to feel the blow, the sting of the words. Though she didn’t know why she was surprised by it. There were no paintings of her in this house, they did not invite her to parties or dinners anymore, they certainly didn’t visit –.
And even if the laws had allowed it, he would never take that away from her: the chance to save herself.
Nesta gazed at her friends. And saw pain and sorrow in their tear-streaked faces, but also the openness of letting each other see the broken places deep inside. The understanding that they would not turn away.
Look toward where it hurts the most. That’s always where the answers are.
Sandriel just gaped at the feed that had shown Bryce Quinlan casually vacuuming up the ashes of a Governor as if she’d spilled chips on the carpet.
She was a wolf who had never learned how to be a wolf, thanks to that cage humans called propriety and society. And like any maltreated animal, she bit anyone who came near.