The Kiss of Deception (The Remnant Chronicles, #1)

by Mary E. Pearson

Today was the day a thousand dreams would die and a single dream would be born.

what a start

a little exaggeration was always expected when describing weapons, victories, and body parts.

can't argue with that

“Ah. Love. Yes, that. It’s a nice little trick if you can find it. But don’t fret; I’m still on your side.”

“Surely everyone makes a mistake on occasion.”

“Deliberate deception is not a mistake. It’s calculating and cold,” I told him. “Especially when aimed at the one you profess to love.” He paused mid-swipe as if I had swatted him on the back of the head. “And if one can’t be trusted in love,” I added, “one can’t be trusted in anything.”

“I’m sorry for what your friend’s been through,” he said, “but deception and trust—are they really so unconditional?” “Yes.” “You’ve never been guilty of deception?” “Yes, but—” “Ah, so there are conditions.” “Not when it comes to love and gaining a person’s affections.”

That was what I both hated and loved about Rafe. He challenged me on everything I said, but he also listened intently. He listened as if every word I said mattered.

“Look at the brilliant yellow. Autumn is greedy, no? Already stealing days from summer.” I eyed the premature color. “Early, yes, but maybe it all evens out. Maybe there are times summer lingers and refuses to give way to autumn.” She sighed. “The rules of reason. Even nature can’t obey.”

Once upon a time, there was a man as great as the gods.… But even the great can tremble with fear. Even the great can fall.

My first encounter with Rafe had been a contentious one, and not by any stretch had I been smitten the way Walther was when he saw Greta. And Rafe certainly hadn’t wooed me with sweet words the way Mikael had Pauline. But maybe that didn’t make it any less true. Maybe there were a hundred different ways to fall in love.

It can take years to mold a dream. It takes only a fraction of a second for it to be shattered.

Walther didn’t leave here as a soldier, he left as a crazed man. He didn’t leave to go join his platoon—he left to get his revenge.

I understood monuments now. Some were built of stone and sweat, and others were built of dreams, but they were all made of the things we didn’t want to forget.

I had to move on to a new hope now. One made of flesh and blood and promise.

I’d do whatever it took to bring her back. I found her once. I would find her again.

He was of them, but he wasn’t one of them.

“I’m not good at this, Lia. I live two separate lives, and usually one never meets the other.”

“I’m a soldier, Lia. That’s all.” “Then who were you in Terravin? Who were you when you loaded goods into the wagon for Berdi? When I tended your shoulder? When you pulled me close and danced with me? When I kissed your cheek in the meadow? Who were you then?” He turned to look directly at me, his lips half parted. His dark eyes narrowed. “I was only a soldier. That’s all I ever was.”

She met my gaze, her eyes resolute, her chin raised the way she always held it when her mind was racing. I had studied every gesture, every blink, every nuance of her, all the language that was Lia

There is one true history and one true future. Listen well, for the child sprung from misery Will be the one to bring hope. From the weakest will come strength. From the hunted will come freedom.

From the loins of Morrighan, From the far end of desolation, From the scheming of rulers, From the fears of a queen, Hope will be born.

Until one comes who is mightier, The one sprung from misery, The one who was weak, The one who was hunted, The one marked with claw and vine, The one named in secret, The one called Jezelia.

I forced my mind to think of other things. Things that made sense. Happier things.

Ever since that first day I met you, I’ve gone to sleep every single night thinking about you.

A young man I knew to be strong and brave. A young man who was still in love, but consumed by grief. The one with the easy, crooked smile who had taken me along to card games, tweaked my nose, defended me against injustices, and showed me how to throw a knife. My brother.

And then there was silence.

The world would always know, even if men forgot.

The good ones don’t run away, Lia.