Tower of Dawn (Throne of Glass, #6)

by Sarah J. Maas

that young woman who had worn her scars like some ladies wore their finest jewelry.

“I’m writing a giant no.” Which she then underlined.

Not rape, not theft—not something that cowards would rather hide from. Yell fire, the stranger had instructed her. A threat to all. If you are attacked, yell about a fire.

“Don’t you waste one heartbeat being afraid of a coward who hunts women in the darkness,”

“We will face this,” he said. “Together.”

Here, with her, he was home.

“I loved you before I ever set eyes on you,” he said. “Please,” Nesryn wept. Sartaq’s hand tightened on hers. “I wish we’d had time.”

Chaol’s back ached thanks to yesterday’s ride and last night’s … other ride. Multiple rides.

TMI, dude. No one wants to know about your "rides"

“Then you’d better heal me, Yrene Towers, because I plan to do a great deal of anything with you tonight.”

K ur cute but CHILL.

She had wrecked him, wrecked his life, and had then strolled right to this prince, as if she were going from one room to another. And when it had all gone to hell, when he’d turned his back on everything he knew, when he had lied to the one who mattered most to keep her secrets, she had not been there to fight. To help. She had only returned, months later, and thrown it in his face. His uselessness. His nothingness.

She meant those words. I’m sorry. Sorry for the lies. For what she had done to him, his life. For swearing that she would pick him, choose him, no matter what. Always. He wanted to hate her for that lie. That false promise, which she had discarded in the misty forests of Wendlyn. And yet. There, with that prince, without the mask … That was the bottom of her pit. She had come to Rowan, soul limping. She had come to him as she was, as she had never been with anyone. And she had returned whole.

Whether he stood or limped or sat … it did not change him. Who he was. She had fallen in love with him well before he’d ever stood.

Every step, all of it, had led here. From that keep in the snow-blasted mountains where a man with a face as hard as the rock around them had thrown him into the cold; to that salt mine in Endovier, where an assassin with eyes like wildfire had smirked at him, unbroken despite a year in hell.

A moment of kindness. From a young woman who ended lives to a young woman who saved them.