Boy of Chaotic Making (Whimbrel House, #3)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

You have to face it. And it’s going to hurt. Honestly, it never stops hurting. Even with all the balms one could hope for, the hurt carves your soul and leaves a scar. But, Owein . . . you’re not alone anymore.

“Nothing is really scary. We just make it that way in our heads. That’s what my mom said.” She glanced into the cave. “She’s dead now, but she wasn’t scared when she died. She was brave. So I’m always going to be brave. And Owein? Life is a lot easier being brave than being scared.”

Darkness, I mean. It’s just a part of the world. Part of life. It makes sense to me now. And my darkness . . . that’s a piece of my story, like a chapter in one of your books. I’m not supposed to tear it out. It makes me stronger. It adds to what I’m facing now, and what I’ll face in the future. It’s part of me, just like my legs or my magic or my mind.

He relished her independence. They’d been to prison together, but he would never imprison her. Being a married woman didn’t have to change who she was.

“As I bind your hands, so are your lives bound in a union of love, trust, and devotion. Like the stars, your love should be a constant source of light, and like the earth, a foundation from which to grow.”

“You have written me a happy ending, and I cannot fathom a better story than ours.”