Iron Flame (The Empyrean, #2)

by Rebecca Yarros

Love doesn’t even have the decency to die. It just transforms into abject misery. That’s what this ache in my chest is: misery. Because love, at its root, is hope. Hope for tomorrow. Hope for what could be. Hope that the someone you’ve entrusted your everything to will cradle and protect it.

“Secrets make for poor leverage. They die with the people who keep them.”