Priestess (Gods of Tintar, #1)

by Kara Voorhees Reynolds

I felt, at that age, if time could put lines on my face, I could put them on my body.

“Why would I ever call you ‘beautiful’ when I can call you Edith? Your name is interchangeable to that word’s meaning. In it, the scope of everything I wish to look at in this world is outlined.”

You never ask. You never ask for life. You always ask for the smallest portion. Ask for your return, girl. Claim your life for once. Do not bargain with it, the inevitable end of it always in mind. Ask for the whole of it. It breaks your goddess’s heart to watch you see it as worthless, as nothing but fodder for sacrifice.

My mother says all women are mothers in different ways, that we all give birth, just not all to children. She says some women give birth to revolutions, to movements, to sanctuary, to art, to brilliance.