The Fragile Threads of Power (Threads of Power, #1)

by V.E. Schwab

Magic is the river that waters all things. It lends itself to life, and in death calls it back, and so the stream appears to rise and fall, when in truth, it never loses a single drop.

And Kell wanted what he always did these days. To prove that even now, without the power that had once defined his life, marked him as Antari and made him the strongest magician in the world, he was still worth something to the Grey Barron, and Lila Bard, to the palace and the empire, and himself.

He fought the urge to scream, and failed, the sound tearing free as he collapsed, his burning cheek against the icy patch of floor, and sobbed in pain, and anger, and grief. Who was he without magic? What was he worth?

“We all don clothes that do not fit, and hope we will grow into them. Or at least, grow used to them.”

“Then why be queen?” “Power,” she said, without hesitation, and Alucard must have failed to hide his reaction, because she went on. “Oh, not as you think it. I do not mean the power to command citizens or start wars. I simply mean the power to do as I please. To think and work and live as I like, with no one in my way.” Her eyes shone as she spoke with a hungry kind of light.

“We will each love him,” she said, “in our own way. I will give him what you cannot. And you will give him what I cannot. And together, we shall be a better kind of family.”

Names had value. And her father taught her never to give a thing away for less than it was worth. Especially something you couldn’t buy back.

Every city street had its own rhythm, its own color, its own pulse. And the best way to learn them—the only way, really—was by walking.

“What am I now?” he’d asked, angry, and frightened, and in pain. And Tieren had cupped his cheek and said, “You are alive. Isn’t that enough?”

She sighed in relief. “You came.” Kell stepped into the room, the black ring’s cord swinging from his fingers. “You called.” He smiled a little as he said it.

“There is nowhere you go,” said the Antari to her prince, “that I cannot follow.”