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

by V.E. Schwab

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

“My king,” he said cheerfully, and in his mouth, the word felt less like a hammer, and more like a kiss. If Alucard read the meaning of Tieren’s presence at this hour, or saw the strain in Rhy’s face, he made no mention of it, simply swept up the mourning circlet as he approached the dais. “My heart,” answered Rhy,

“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.

“How lucky we are,” he said softly, “that after every winter, we are rewarded with a spring.”

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.”