More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“It’s going to hurt him very deeply when he finds out you’ve gone.”
“I have no claim on you,” Lyford said quietly—too quietly. “You haven’t given me permission to care about who you choose to pass the time with. You would rebuke me in the most strident tones if I tried.”
“Do you feel any better? Since I said sorry?” “No,” said Lyford simply. “Not much. You’ve been hurting me for years.”
“You called me Idunet just for asking you dancing, and it hurt. You’ve rejected me every time I’ve reached out for anything other than your body—and you’ve rejected me for that too, and then changed your mind fifteen times until I don’t know which way’s up anymore or what I’m supposed to be doing to please you. I don’t want to play that game anymore, Tam, I’m tired of it. I want—” Lyford’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “I’m favored of Angarat, Tam. Not Idunet. Do you understand?” Tam had once more flushed hot with shame. Of course he understood—Lyford didn’t want sex and hedonism
...more
Gods, man, you could hold a grudge for a thousand years, couldn’t you. Even after all those times I’ve made you come so beautifully, and whispered sweet nothings to you, and kissed you for hours, and invited you dancing—nothing’s ever going to balance out the fact that I was a stupid little idiot when I was fifteen and I did everything I could think of with tuppence worth of wit just to make you notice me. Fuck’s sake, and then you with your pockets full of grudges have the gall to sulk about forgiveness! You may well be the worst person I know.”
“Nevertheless, he’s going to say no thanks to me, because he’s in love with you, and because as one of the favored of Angarat, he knows what his best interests are and how to choose accordingly. Shame there isn’t a god of being stupid, otherwise Angarat might have some competition for who gets to claim you. Do you want to take the wager? Do you think he’ll fuck me?” “I,” Tam said breathlessly, in the midst of wrangling himself up onto Piggy, “am not going to participate in this conversation anymore, and I hope I never see you again.”
Yes, that was the thing to focus on—he’d swoon and invite Tam to bed, and Tam would have some excellent victory sex, and he would be the hero who captured the Ram of the Highlands for the first time in hundreds of years, and then maybe finally he’d be a different person, someone he liked more than the person he was now. Someone who could let sweetness and softness happen to him without his throat closing up in fear and suspicion. Someone who could be loved.
Angarat, how long am I supposed to keep trying with him?”
Because Nicolau was the only one patient enough to fight his way past all of Tam’s thorny hedges. Because Tam wanted so badly to be loved, and Nicolau wanted so badly to love him, apparently.
And fuck, he was furious. If he’d ever seen Lyford—Nicolau—cry like this because of anyone else, Tam would have destroyed that person’s life. He would have been the nastiest, pettiest, most awful villain. He would have spread insidious gossip about them like poison on a bed of weeds. He would have torn them down. He would have uprooted them and cut them apart and salted the fields behind him.
Nicolau bit his lip and looked down at Daisy. He huffed a laugh and said ruefully, “I remember lying in the leaves and the mud trying to gather my wits as you walked off. And I remember I thought, ‘Seven gods, I’m going to marry him.’”
“Are you in love with me?” He seized up in horror. Fuck. Goblin, he was a goblin, he wasn’t fit for polite company— “Yes,” Nicolau said softly, immediately, as if it were as ordinary and unremarkable as a daisy by the side of the road.
