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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
Penn Cole
Read between
December 6 - December 11, 2024
For anyone who has ever been told their spark shouldn’t burn so bright and for all the people who loved them precisely because it did.
couldn’t avoid the hooded, red-rimmed eyes that followed me with too much interest.
Venin? (i read too much fourth wing)
flush rose to my cheeks. Henri was my oldest and dearest friend—and lately, he’d become something even more.
Oh look! There's Dain!
“Dead girl walking,”
frowned. “You mean Elric? He’s a prince?” “No, not Elric. Prince Luther.” I went still. “Was Prince Luther at the palace this morning?” “You really don’t know the royals at all, do you?” Maura grinned. “Diem, you were sitting right beside him. He was the one holding his sister, Princess Lilian. They’re the King’s niece and nephew.” Oh, gods. Oh, gods. The man I’d been searching for all this time was Prince Luther.
No shit Sherlock
“Do we really need it?” he murmured against my throat.
I dont like him
But I was made of swinging fists and rash words, my edges too jagged and my temper too hot. Nothing about me was delicate.
“So if only the men get the killing magic, they’ll always be the most powerful.” My head shifted at a tilt, a hint of danger surfacing in my tone. “Because a fighter is more powerful than a healer, right?” “Right.”
Gfdh
I was standing on a battlefield aflame with silvery fire, clad in armor of deepest black that concealed mud and gore, the speckled evidence of war. My bloodied hands bore a great gold-handled broadsword whose onyx blade was veined with scrollwork that seemed almost illuminated from within. I swung the blade around me in slow, menacing circles that dared my enemy to approach. A shadowed figure stood nearby, and lifeless bodies—Descended and mortal—lay in a broad ring at my feet, as if they’d been thrown back by the force of a massive explosion. My face was grim, undaunted. Sad, I think—but
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broad wingspan
“Oh, just taking you would satisfy me enough.” I shot a sympathetic look between his legs. “That must be the first time a woman’s ever told you that.”
“I cannot tell you what to do with your life, my darling Diem. But whatever you choose—be smart. And above all, survive. Your life is far too precious to me to be wasted.”
“Suit yourself. But whatever you do or don’t do, sweetheart, do it for yourself. Don’t choose a mediocre life for a mediocre man. Go be exceptional. If he’s worth it, he won’t judge you. And if he’s really the one, he’ll come along for the ride.”
“Diem, stop!” Henri wrapped an arm around my waist and dragged me away. “What are you doing?” he hissed in my ear.
GOD FUCKING DAMMIT HENRI
He snorted. “Big words for a little girl.” “Better a little girl than a little...” My gaze briefly dropped to his crotch, and I clicked my tongue sympathetically.
“Blood rite?”
Yeah,what in the nesta is this
“Are we meeting rabid dogs or civilized human beings?”
“No commentary?” he asked, sinking to his knees. “I’m disappointed.” “I’m too busy enjoying the view.” I risked a glance down, expecting to see the same obnoxious smirk his guard had worn, but for once, Luther looked as flustered as I felt. If I didn’t feel like my skin was about to spontaneously combust, I might even have enjoyed watching him squirm. And on his knees, no less.
whirled on him, ready to plead my case, but his expression stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t judgment on his face, but heat. Lust.
What the actual fuxk
“My pretty little spy.”
Nah
“Marry me, Diem Bellator.”
No
be a wife—to be relegated to a man’s side instead of standing on my own, to abandon myself and my own goals in service of a husband’s authority and a wife’s duty. It was the life expected of most women in Mortal City. Silence. Obedience. Sacrifice. The idea of it pressed in on me like a clenching fist. Surely Henri did not want that kind of marriage. Surely he would never expect that of me—would he?
“But it’s a good step. You could move in with me and my father. And after the Guardians win the war, you could stop working and stay home so we could start a family. You would be such an incredible mother.”
I want to strangle this man
“Oh, don’t you worry about him, Father. I would rather chop off an arm than court that man. My sword arm, even.” I smiled sweetly at Teller, who was looking at me like he might volunteer to do the amputation personally.
“So?” “So it’s too dangerous. You’re mortal, remember?” His tone was dry, almost sarcastic. “Your body is too fragile.” I glared. “First of all, if you ever call me fragile again, I’ll slice your precious royal balls off and shove them down your throat.”
Not burned, not suffocated from smoke. Murdered.
But the man I faced that day had earned his fate when he murdered two innocents. As far as I knew, these guards had committed no crime worse than being Descended in the wrong place at the wrong time. War is death and misery and sacrifice. War is making choices that will haunt you for the rest of your days.
A vision came to me. The same one I’d had before—a battlefield drenched in silver flame and strewn with dead bodies in a circle at my feet, my body clad in glittering onyx armor and a gilded, night-black blade in my hand. Only this time, I wasn’t alone. The shadowed figure I’d seen before was now visible, as if he’d thrown off a great cloak of darkness, the jeweled sword in his hand dripping with crimson blood. When I looked into those familiar eyes, the most beautiful, heart-wrenching ache burned against the left side of my chest. I covered it with my palm, and on the other side of the field,
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“I am not afraid, Devourer of Crowns. Ravager of Realms. Herald of Vengeance.”
If you’re the way my fate finally catches up to me, I can’t fathom a more beautiful end.”
“You know, Diem,” he growled, “I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about you, wondering if you’re the best liar I’ve ever met or the worst. I think I finally know the answer.” He placed his palms flat against the wall, ensnaring me between his arms. “The only person you’re good at lying to is yourself.”
“What if our story isn’t over, Diem Bellator? What if it’s only beginning?”
“You shouldn’t have run,” he said flatly. “You made things so much worse.”
And you should die
“More violence can’t be the right solution.” “It’s the only solution!” He slammed his fist against the wall, tiny cracks webbing out from the point of impact. His voice and his shoulders shook with roiling fury. “In all of mortal history, violence is the only thing that’s ever worked. Every right that we have, we’ve had to scrape and claw and kill for. People with power don’t give it away out of the kindness of their hearts. They do it when we leave them no other choice. When they fear what we’ll do to them if they don’t. And they sure as hell aren’t giving us our homeland back unless we have
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Stfu pro watermelon rutt in your mutt
