Heir of Fire (Throne of Glass, #3)

by Sarah J. Maas

Dredging up some semblance of annoyance, Celaena stuck out her tongue.

I have the ick from this sorry

“Rowan.” His tattoo seemed to soak up the sun, so dark it looked freshly inked.

Slay hi rowan ive been dying to meet you

Maeve ran a moon-white finger down the owl’s head. “I wish you to become who you were born to be. To become queen.”

You didn’t need a weapon at all when you were born one.

Damn it all to hell.

“You’re mine,” Manon said to him.

But if Chaol ever saw him, he wasn’t sure he would be able to restrain himself.

How had she been afraid of this body for so long? Even her soul felt looser. As if it had been locked up and buried and was only now starting to shake free. Not joy, perhaps not ever, but a glimmer of what she had been before grief had decimated her so thoroughly.

And she had the sense that her friend might have been proud of the way she went from shop to shop that afternoon, head held high, and charmed the ever-loving hell out of those villagers.

“She is eight—and she has told me that her dearest friends are characters in books.”

But she did not explain that to her Thirteen, because it was none of their damn business and it did not impact them.

Me asf

You are nothing to me, and I do not care.”

Ok rowan its not looking good for you currently