Angelina

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Zathrian was right. No one had done this to me. The gods hadn’t taken my power. I hadn’t burned it out. No, I’d crippled myself. Which was much, much worse. I’d made myself helpless. I’d made myself a victim. And if I wasn’t careful, I’d build that wall higher around my power, using my own self-loathing. I could feel it now—like a thick, angry black cloud, settling over the stone and fae iron in front of me. No matter how much I crumbled that wall, it rebuilt. Again and again and again. My chest ached, and I took a deep, shaky breath, searching for a new approach. Leaning against the tree, I ...more
A Queen This Fierce and Deadly (Kingdom of Lies, #4)
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