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“She was not becoming anything different from what she always was and always had the capacity to be. You just finally saw everything. And once you saw that other part of her …,” Dorian said quietly. It had taken him until now, until Sorscha, to understand what that meant. “You cannot pick and choose what parts of her to love.”
“you do not have the right to wish she were not what she is. The only thing you have a right to do is decide whether you are her enemy or her friend.”
“I claim you, Rowan Whitethorn. I don’t care what you say and how much you protest. I claim you as my friend.”
When Dorian had spoken, it hadn’t been a prince who looked at him. It had been a king.
She was the heir of ash and fire, and she would bow to no one.
No longer would they be locked away in her heart. No longer would she be ashamed.
