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Here, it’s easy to pretend our colorful kingdom isn’t nesting on a bed of bones.
My skin crawls at the heft of him. The disabling might of a male determined to take whatever he wants.
parchment larks
I love the concept of the parchment lark, and also the dragon moons
broken things make the sharpest weapons …
Heartbreak has a tone that echoes through the ages, and her voice was laden with it.
dae
annoying
Nee wiggles to life, her flapping motions smooth and mechanical. Void of everything that makes her her.
It’s a humble moment of peace despite the pain lancing through me. A quiet moment destined to scream. It doesn’t matter how much of my skin is smoothed or how deep he kneels at my feet. I’m still an assassin marked for execution come aurora rise, and he’s still a tyrant king.
He looked me right in the eye and said ‘thank you’ in a voice so rough I think the words might’ve hurt coming out, and I’ve never felt happiness so fierce.
Other members of the Ath who played small but poignant roles in my life before I fell upon this sword I’ve spent my known life sharpening.
‘Every word that comes out of your mouth is sharp, Moonbeam.’ He one-handedly unbuckles one of his saddlebags and tosses it over his other shoulder. ‘I’m half dead already, bleeding out at your feet. Can’t you see?’
There’s an easy lightness in the way he hands me the question, but it still feels like catching an ember.
It’s been hard to turn my back on the me that thrived within these walls, like studying a slow-moving tragedy that slugs along at such a languid pace you never reach the painful part.
He’s fire and brimstone. I’m shattered ice. Our collision is steam and destruction, destined to dissipate, but I’ll gladly burn beneath him until the world comes crumbling down.
Silence prevails, tension thickens, his eyes burning embers when he finally says, ‘Raeve, you could flay me down the middle and I’d still fucking love you.’ All the breath shoves from my lungs. Love … The word is a quiet death that slips away without so much as a whispered goodbye – an abrupt shove into an eternal loneliness I’ll never deign myself to claw free of. ‘Such a waste of that big, beautiful heart,’ I whisper, and his eyes flare.
Though I may not be the one he lost, I could give him the goodbye I don’t believe he got but undoubtedly deserves. I could pretend my heart is soft and warm and vulnerable. That I’m worthy of everything this spectacular male embodies, even though a stone in my gut tells me that’s not the case. That Kaan Vaegor is too good for me in every way, shape, and form. But I won’t think about that right now. No … I’ll save that thought for when I’m stepping into The Curly Quill. For when I’m preparing to pass Vruhn a sack of gold, then beg him to remove Kaan like a prickly weed when he’s actually a
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The only beam of light I’ll ever need or want in this world, my love for her sitting like a moon in my chest. Only this moon will never fall, no matter how hard she tugs on it.
I’d mulch her enemies with my bare hands to see those dimples. Or at the very least, pave a bloody path for her to slaughter them herself.
But my hope is a flame that’ll never blow out. Not when it comes to her. She could sink me to the bottom of the Loff, and it’d still burn like a sun.
‘I envy the dragons, Kaan. They worship death so beautifully. We just … lose. Left with nothing but ghosts and memories that feel like wounds.’
‘No, you don’t, Moonbeam. You love me. You’re just too busy feasting on my heart to notice.’
‘You feel that?’ he rumbles, setting his hand on top of mine and holding it over the thumping organ. His eyes take on a lighter shade that almost looks like reverence. ‘You found us, Moonbeam.’
