The Lotus Empire (The Burning Kingdoms, #3)

by Tasha Suri

Sometimes grief was pain, and sometimes it was simply absence—the wound in the shape of things that could not be felt or touched or comprehended.

He did not think. The drink had him, and the pipe, and the grief. It was simple enough to press his own mouth to that carved face. That ever-smiling mouth. It was cold beneath his lips. It did not warm. It never could.

There is nothing worthless about a broken thing—be it a tale, or a man.”

was like staring at the sun,” Rao said. A shaky laugh. “Really looking at it would have destroyed me.”

“It’s not tragic to love like we do,” Sima said gently. “To be like we are. You… you should know that. Although I’m sorry you’ve had so much grief.”