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Two things stood between me and a good night’s sleep, and I was allowed to kill only one of them.
“I am open to any suggestions on how I can improve my clumsy affections—”
“This is the fourth time you’ve mentioned my virtue,” Arin said, and I would swear to Sirauk he sounded amused. “Perhaps preoccupy yourself with a different matter.”
the way he looks at you sometimes. Like you are a cliff with a fatal fall, and each day you move him closer to its edge.”
I wondered why in a world ripe with monsters and magic, only he could see me so clearly.
Power is a choice, Sylvia. When you choose who you are willing to fight for, you choose who you are.”
“I am still waiting,” Arin said. “Waiting?” I had learned to defend myself against every version of Arin. Devised strategies to safeguard against his ever-twisting mind and sharp tongue. But no one taught me how to protect myself from the Nizahl Heir when he looked at me like this—gentle, human, with his steadfast gaze pinning my own. Grounding me. “To be disappointed.”
“What appeal can reason have in the face of your tears?”
After a lifetime of running, he was my homecoming.
I followed the sharp line of his nose. “I dream of killing you.” Arin pulled my fingers away. Worry lashed me. Had I gone too far? Eyes dark with amusement searched mine. He smoothed the furrow forming in my brow with his thumb. “My demented Suraira, we have much to discuss about seduction.”
He had barely touched me, and already I felt wholly charred.
Love was not submission. It was not testing how far I could bend before I broke. Love was Sefa’s hand finding mine in the dark to reassure herself of my presence. Love was Marek entering the kingdom of his nightmares to help me. Raya’s squash soup on my birthday, Rory’s gruff smile when I named an herb correctly, Fairel’s giddy laugh. Dawoud turning the dagger onto himself. A table exploding in the Blood Summit. Love was Arin cradling my face in a burning room and telling me to run.
When you choose who you are willing to fight for, you choose who you are.
“I choose her,” he’d said. In a different life, I thought, I would have chosen you, too.
