Days of Blood & Starlight (Daughter of Smoke & Bone, #2)

by Laini Taylor

Kaz made Zuzana wish that beauty were something that could be revoked for bad behavior.

If only …

I hope is the case because if I find out you’re all gallivanting-girl and still haven’t come to see me, I might get drastic. I might try that one thing, you know, that thing people do when their eyes get all wet and stupid—what’s it called? Crying? Or NOT. I might PUNCH you instead and trust that you won’t punch me back because of my endearing smallness. It would be like punching a child. (Or a badger.)

Mik is great. I’ve been a little upset (ahem), and you know what he did to cheer me up? Well, I’d told him that story about when I was little and I spent all my carnival tickets trying to win the cakewalk because I really, really wanted to eat a whole cake all by myself—but I didn’t win and found out later I could actually have bought a cake and still had tickets left over for rides and it was the worst day of my life? Well, he made me my own cakewalk! With numbers on the floor and music and SIX ENTIRE CAKES, and after I won them ALL we took them to the park and fed each other with these extra-long forks for like five hours. It was the best day of my life. Until the one when you come back. I love you, and I hope you are safe and happy and that wherever you are, someone (Akiva?) is making you cakewalks, too, or whatever it is that fiery angel boys do for their girls. *kiss/punch*

Relationship goals… friendship goals.. all off it goals

Lesson: Do not bring presents back from strange places. (Forget that. Do.) Also: Write back to signify your continuing aliveness or I will give you the hurts. Zuze

Zuzana snorted. “Of course. And I sign everything Mrs. Mikolas Vavra, with a heart dotting the i.” Mik said, “Huh. I like the sound of that.” She punched his shoulder. “Please. If you ever did ask me to marry you, don’t even think I would identify myself as some addendum of you, like an old lady signing her rent check with perfect penmanship as Mrs. Husband Name—” “But you’d say yes, is that what you’re saying?” Mik’s blue eyes twinkled. “What?” “That sounded like the only quibble is what you’d call yourself, not whether or not you’d say yes.” Zuzana blushed. “I didn’t say that.” “So you wouldn’t marry me?” “Ridiculous question. I’m eighteen!” “Oh, it’s an age thing?” He frowned. “You don’t mean wild oats, do you? We’re not going to have to take some stupid break so you can experience other—” Zuzana put a hand over his mouth. “Gross. Don’t even say it.” Mollified, Mik kissed her palm. “Good.” She spun on her heel and walked on. Mik gave the huge puppet a tug to get it rolling again, and followed. “So,” he called to her back, “just out of curiosity, you know, purely conversation and all, at what age will you be entertaining offers of marriage?” “You think it’ll be so easy?” she called back over her shoulder. “No way. There will be tasks. Like in a fairy tale.” “That sounds dangerous.” “Very. So think twice.” “No need,” he said. “You’re worth it.” And Zuzana’s face warmed with pleasure.

Zuze & Mik are the sweet filling in a dessert that you didn’t expect. . And it’s gloriously understated and strangely light & oddly perfect.

“Yes, well, don’t sheathe your claws,” said Ten. It was a chimaera expression, roughly equivalent to don’t hold your breath, though more menacing, with the implied necessity of self-defense. Good advice, thought Karou.

It doesn’t matter what happens to me, she told herself. I am one of billions. I am stardust gathered fleetingly into form. I will be ungathered. The stardust will go on to be other things someday and I will be free.

✨stardust✨