Heir of Fire (Throne of Glass, #3)

by Sarah J. Maas

And she would not ask him to, not now that she understood that in the weeks she had been looking at him it had been like gazing at a reflection. No wonder she had loathed him.

🥲🥲🥲

And when she grasped the dagger, its weight lighter than she remembered, Rowan looked into her eyes, into the very core of her, and said, “Fireheart.”

One by one, like shadows emerging from the mist, they appeared. The faces of the people she had loved with her heart of wildfire.