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The only thing all the intended disorientation had accomplished was to familiarize her with the building. Idiots.
Still, the image haunted his dreams throughout the night: a lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back.
Libraries were full of ideas—perhaps the most dangerous and powerful of all weapons.
the way music could break and heal and make everything seem possible and heroic.
He had come here with the intention of embarrassing a snide assassin, and had instead found a young woman pouring her secrets into a pianoforte.
“We all bear scars, Dorian. Mine just happen to be more visible than most.
He saw her face each time he closed his eyes. She haunted his thoughts, made him wish to do grand and wonderful things in her name, made him want to be a man who deserved to wear a crown.
Freedom or death lay at this table. Her past and future were seated on a glass throne.
“You could rattle the stars,” she whispered. “You could do anything, if you only dared. And deep down, you know it, too. That’s what scares you most.”
