Ruthless Vows (Letters of Enchantment, #2)

by Rebecca Ross

How utterly sobering it was, then, to realize how seldom daydreams like that aligned with reality.

and he would light the candles and write by fire because the words came easier in the darkness.

“It reminded me that I cannot hold those I love in a cage, even if it feels like protecting them.”

I am too full of wants and it has made me heady and bold.

She was very good at burying things like that, her anguish and her sorrow and sometimes even the reality of what she faced. But she didn’t quite know how to let them go without losing vital pieces of herself.

“There shouldn’t be any hounds, or eithrals, or bombs. You should get to be children, young people, adults who can dream and love and live your lives without all of this … horrible mess.”

How I love to read your words and hear the thoughts that sharpen your mind. And how I would love to be on my knees before you now, surrendering to you and you alone.

when is it my turn

He wondered how many mundane things hid magic, or perhaps it was better to think of it as how much magic liked being married to the ordinary. To simplicity and comfort and overlooked details.

And then, because he was an utter fool for her, he bumped her foot beneath the table.

She tasted just as he remembered. Like sugar in strong black tea. Lavender. The first rays of dawn. Mist that has just burned away from a meadow.

Unsurprisingly, she went to his bookshelves first, her mouth agape. She touched the gilded spines lovingly; it made him want to give them all to her.

He could wake in the deepest region of Dacre’s realm, as far from the moon and sun as divinity could shackle him. He could wake and not know his name, forgetting every word he had ever written. But he would never forget the scent of Iris’s skin, the sound of her voice. The way she had looked at him. The confidence of her hands.

Sometimes his beauty still struck her, made her knees feel weak. She realized that she loved the sight of him in the night just as much as she did in the day. How the darkness made him seem sharper in some ways and softer in others, like he was a starlit portrait in the process of being painted.

If he touches me, I will sunder in two, she thought, fire in her blood. If he touches me, I will come undone.

there's jurdan everywhere i go 💔

“Write me a story where you keep me up late every night with your typing, and I hide messages in your pockets for you to find when you’re at work. Write me a story where we first met on a street corner, and I spilled coffee on your expensive trench coat, or when we crossed paths at our favorite bookshop, and I recommended poetry, and you recommended myths. Or that time when the deli got our sandwich orders wrong, or when we ended up sitting next to each other at the ball game, or I dared to take the train west just to see how far I could go, and you just so happened to be there too.”

the end was near.

pheobe bridgers reference??

“Oh, I would betray you a hundredfold,” he said, his voice rising. “I would betray you a thousandfold for her.”