House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City, #3)

by Sarah J. Maas

Let them think her rambling. An idiot. The party girl most of Midgard had labeled her, that Micah had believed her to be, until she was vacuuming up his fucking ashes.

“You can call me Ari.” “I thought you hated that nickname.” “Everyone seems inclined to use it, so it might as well be my choice for you to do so.”

“Your pity is wasted on her,” Lidia went on. “It is not pity,” Irithys said, ruby flame darkening to a color like rich wine. “It is honor. There is none in attacking a person who cannot fight back, enemy or no.”

“I will ask you one more time—” “And I will tell you a thousand more times: no. On my honor, no.” “You have no honor down here. It means nothing in this place.” “Honor is all I have,” Irithys said, the heat of her indigo flames strong enough to warm Lidia’s chilled hands. “Honor, and my name. I will not sully or yield them. No matter what my enemy has done. Or what you threaten me with, Hind.”

“I haven’t lived long enough to know every horror in this world, but I can tell you that dark places tend to breed dark things.

“It means that there was once joy in this world.” Silence. Then Nesta said, “That’s it?” Bryce kept her eyes on the dancers, the stars, the lush lands. Ignored the darkness beneath. Focused on the good—always the good. “Isn’t that all that matters?”

Through love, all is possible. Even getting free of death-masks.