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“Why would I need a courtship if I could get whatever I wanted from a man by just walking into any tavern in Onita?”
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They mirrored the phrase that chased her from dreams and nightmares her entire life, said in a voice that whispered of shadows and starlight. Love is a weakness.
After all, it was rare for a woman to have magic. Most gifts, elemental in nature and almost always specific to fire or air, manifested in men around the time of puberty.
her father, for example, bore no gifts—but
To be told what to do by someone who wasn’t her, told who to be and how to act and to have her free will drained from her body until she was nothing more than a husk of herself.
For her, Ryenne would kneel without hesitation.
that every sword needs a shield, every great power must be grounded, and even the strongest need protecting.”
Love is weakness.
“Sebastian, My Queen.”
but there was something strikingly familiar about him, like stepping back into a home that you had been away from for far too long.
her words spilling into the air like a liquid drug to which he was instantly addicted.
But when his eyes met hers, he forgot, for the most fleeting of moments, that he hated her.
He thought he could save himself from those thoughts by moving his attention to her eyes. Gods, he had always been such a fucking idiot.
But he was fooling himself. He was nothing. Worthless. Things that were worthless couldn’t be protected, especially from assaults by wicked little females.
Repeated, over and over again across that page, was the phrase, “Love is my strength.”
“There’s not a single doubt in my mind, Mariah. I waited twenty-one years to meet you, knowing you would be worth the wait, hoping beyond hope I would be offered the chance to bind myself to you forever.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“Hey,” he said, voice calm as she met his gaze. “Stay with me. Do you trust me?”
and remember that no matter what, I’ve got you.”
She felt warm fingers grip her chin just as her gaze snagged on the blade, her attention pulled back to honeyed hazel eyes. “Remember, Mariah. With me.”
“You have no idea how much your presence in this palace is driving me fucking crazy.”
Crazy enough, indeed.
It wasn’t as if Mariah would even want him to be the one to comfort her, anyway. Twisted self-loathing curled into his gut, pulling taut.

