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

by V.E. Schwab

“Your scars are my favorite part of you,” said the king, running a finger from the molten lines all the way to the brands at his wrists. “I love them all. Do you know why?” “Because you were jealous of my looks?” he quipped. For once, Rhy didn’t laugh. He brought his hand to Alucard’s cheek, and turned his gaze away from the mirror. “Because they brought you back to me.”

A head gets lost, but a heart knows home.

“Not everything is a trap.” The words made something tug behind her ribs. At being watched, but more so, at being seen. “Am I that easy to read?” “No,” he said simply. “But I like to think I’m learning.”

“For warmth,” he said, and they both smiled at the words, the memory drawn like thread between them, between now and that first night when she had done the same to him, and claimed it was for luck. She kissed him again, deeper, hands sliding beneath his coat. Kell leaned in. He loved her. It scared him, but frankly, so did Lila. She always had.

He was Kell Maresh. Antari magician and adopted prince. He had traveled across worlds, been known and feared by the rulers of Grey London, and Red, and White. He had faced Vitari and the darkness it tried to breed inside him, had bested all but Lila in the Essen Tasch, had fought against Holland, and then beside him, had watched the other Antari sacrifice everything he had, everything he was, to save their cities. Holland, who had not survived the battle. But Kell had.

Put it back together, he thought. Put yourself back together.

“Idiot,” she said, dropping into a nearby chair. “Do you know what else you are, Kell?” “Tired?” “Spoiled,” she said. “And lazy.” “I’m already down,” he said with a wince. “You don’t have to kick me.”

Delilah Bard was a force of nature. The world hadn’t simply opened for her. It had been cleaved, parted like skin beneath her knife.

To Lila, Kell had always been a pane of glass tilted toward her just so, so that where others saw only colors and streaks, she saw the truth of it. Of him.

Caring could drown you, if you let it. But it could also help you float. Not that she’d ever let the bastards know.

Didn’t it seem more likely that the empire’s magic had been damaged by that chaotic event, and not a magicless king on a man-made throne?

King. The word hung like an ill-fitting shirt. Rhy knew how to be a prince, a rogue, a brother, a son. He had no idea how to be a king.

‘I know how to lead men to war. How can I lead them to peace?’ No one is born knowing how to lead.”

I do not know if you will be a great king, Rhy Maresh. Only time will tell. But I believe with all my heart that you will be a good one.”

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

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.

“Brother,” said Rhy, holding him tight. And unlike the coat, and all the other trappings of Kell’s old life, this one, at least, still fit.

No, she told herself. Not dying. Not yet. She could fix this. Tes was very good at fixing broken things. Admittedly, she did it using magic, and there was no magic here, and she was a person, not a thing, but she was hurt, and hurt was a kind of broken, and she could fix it. She had to.

Vortalis once said there are no happy kings. That the worthy ruler is the one who understands the price of power, and is willing to pay, not with his people’s lives, but with his own. The greater the power, the higher the price. To take the throne is meager. To mend the world is dear. Here is what I know. I would bind myself again to see this place restored. I would bend a knee to any king.

The greater the power, the higher the price. I would bend a knee to any king. Knowing I would burn.

“Your power is yours. Let no one else claim it.”

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

You see why I must leave you? There is so much love up there.”

“I sometimes wonder if you would have been so hateful, had we lived in a kinder house.” He shrugged. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”