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“Gentlemen!” announced the duke. “This is none other than Her Highness the Princess Alexia Pyrogennetos, long-lost daughter of the Empress Irene and rightful heir to the Serpent Throne of Troy.”
okay anastasia
You have to treat people like oranges, Gal the Purse always said. Squeeze what you can from the
bastards, then waste no regrets when you toss away their wrung-out skins. You have to treat people like stepping stones. Like rungs on your ladder. Or you’ll wake up one day with nothing but a set of bootprints on your own back.
Lying was a sin, apparently, unless you did it outrageously and persistently enough, in which case it qualified as scripture.
everyone you’re holier than average, I guess. Stick some saint’s name on it and pilgrims will pay for fucking anything.
“Sometimes…” There was no escaping Cardinal Zizka’s conclusion. “A devil is what you need.”
Looking into those big, calm, careful eyes made Alex feel a little calmer herself. A little. Not a lot. She was a bit disappointed when Sunny took her hands away and stood.
AHHHHHH
“We could go.” Alex sat forwards and caught Sunny’s hand. “I don’t belong here. We’ve run this far, why not go further? Find somewhere we do belong.” And she looked needy, and desperate, and wild. Sunny would’ve liked to hold her, and tell her it would be all right. But she knew it wouldn’t be. She saw what had to be done. For everyone’s sake. Everyone’s but hers.
don’t think so. We always knew … this wasn’t for ever.” Though the truth was Sunny hadn’t let herself think about it till now and was seeing it for the first time. “Once you’re crowned, the Pope’s binding will send me back to the Holy City. It’ll be time to get another.” Alex started to reach for her again. “But you’re the only thing—” Sunny stepped back. “You’ll find something else. You’re a princess. I’m an elf. Sounds like a bad joke. It is one.” Silence, then. In
“Best for who?” whispered Sunny. She would’ve liked to cry, but didn’t really know how. Instead, she leaned sideways, and kept leaning, until she fell over into Jakob’s lap with her hands clasped against her chest. After a moment, he put his arms around her. Gentle was the last thing she’d ever have expected from the old knight, but for a man who’d spent a lifetime killing elves, he was surprisingly good at hugging one. “I just wanted … something,” she said. “For myself.” “No one deserves it more.” “But I can’t have it.”
“It’s meant to be true. You had something. Be thankful for that.” Jakob gave a long, pained sigh. “Now you have to let it go.”
