All This Twisted Glory (This Woven Kingdom, #3)

by Tahereh Mafi

He’d overcome one nightmare only to discover its child, outrun another only to encounter its twin. No matter his efforts he could not outsmart that which he could not anticipate, and his only comfort as he stared up at the familiar, sinister staircase was a cold one.

He’d cried soundlessly, and they were tears of relief. Cyrus couldn’t have known that Iblees would animate his shattered body with the ease of a puppeteer, articulating his broken limbs in a display of breathtaking cruelty the young man had never even thought to imagine. The devil, Cyrus soon discovered, would not allow his debtors to default on a contract.

That day, Cyrus had learned cowardice was a luxury. Only the privileged few could afford to run away, to lock their doors and close their eyes to ugliness. The rest lived in homes without doors to lock, looked through eyes without lids to shut. They confronted the dark even as their hearts trembled, as their souls shook—for even strangled by fear, there was no choice but to endure. No one would be along to slay their demons.

It bothered him to think of it as anything but coincidence; he didn’t like to imagine he’d been born for this role, brought into the world only to endure this misery. Fate, he thought bitterly, was only romantic when one was destined to be the hero.

You may not see your failure, King, but we can smell your fear Cyrus felt a flash of rage. “Is that why you summoned me, then? To celebrate early?” He shook his head. “You’re a vile bastard.” Afraid to close his eyes at night! Afraid to see her face! He hasn’t slept a single wink beyond a drugged embrace

Never have we lost a match We swear it by the stars Never shall you have the girl Her fate is twined with ours

He, who’d been discarded by all—shunned by the Diviners, hunted by his mother, betrayed by his father, abandoned by his brother, plunged into isolation and hated throughout the world? He, whose desiccated heart turned to dust before her tenderness?

“Father,” he said softly. “It’s me.” “NO!” The true king of Tulan fought uselessly against his chains, his face contorting in terror, his eyes squeezing shut. “Leave here at once! I begged you—I asked you never to come back—”

“Never think of me again,” the man said raggedly, the last dregs of energy leaving his body. “Imagine me dead and gone, child. This debt is not yours to bear.” “How can you say that,” came Cyrus’s quiet reply, “when it was you who asked me to bear it?”

tongue. A wave of self-loathing washed over him as quiet sobs soon wracked his father’s limp body. Tears fell from the man’s closed eyes, streaking down his sunken cheeks. Yes, Cyrus hated himself. “Forgive me,” came the older man’s broken response. “I was a fool—I

Finally Reza opened his eyes, the rosy flesh of the empty sockets still wet with tears. “It’s never been done,” he whispered. “No man has ever wagered against the devil and won.”

she saw the unflinching fury in Kamran’s eyes, the resignation in the set of Hazan’s jaw. It was wrong, all wrong. Cyrus couldn’t die. Not now. Not yet. Heavens, she thought. Not ever.

“Just like you did before.” She stifled a yawn, her eyes closing. “Do I get one, too?” Cyrus frowned. “Would that . . . please you?” “Yes, I think so.” “All right.” He blinked slowly. “You can have a dragon.” Kaveh’s head gave a sudden jerk, smoke curling from his nostrils. Are you quite out of your mind, sire? You will not give the girl a dragon.

Somehow it didn’t matter that Alizeh had been but a conjuring of his imagination. It didn’t matter that they’d never known each other outside of the delusions of his mind. It didn’t matter that she owed him nothing. He’d loved her.

“You’ve not yet seen how a man can be destroyed by weakness of the flesh,” said Rostam, his timbre low and steady. “Desire, power, riches, immortality. You are still young and pure of heart—the world does not yet appear to you a misshapen place.

“Master yourself so that you will never be mastered. Know yourself so that you might live with conviction. Live with conviction so that your steps never falter.” He paused. “The mastery of self means never fearing the consequences of doing what is right.”

“When you suffer,” Rostam went on, “you can choose to endure, or you can choose to overcome.”

It occurred to him then, with a vague panic, that he’d follow her off a cliff if she were the one to lead him there.

“You can’t lie to me forever, Cyrus. I’m going to find out the truth about you, and when I do, I promise you this: I’ll ruin him. I’ll make the devil regret the day he was born.”