Heir of Fire (Throne of Glass, #3)

by Sarah J. Maas

Epics and poems and songs had been written about her, so many that some even believed she was just a myth. But here was the dream—the nightmare—made flesh.

There were legends whispered over fires about the other skin Maeve wore. No one had lived to tell anything beyond shadows and claws and a darkness to devour your soul.

“Because she is dead!” She screamed the last word so loudly it burned in her throat. “Because she is dead, and I am left with my worthless life!”

Feels

Instead, the bait beast, small as he was, was gazing at her with something like rage and determination. Emotion, she might have called it.

Not submissive in the least, that sound. A threat—a promise. The bait beast wanted a shot at Titus.

Manon knew she should run. Others were shouting. She had been born without sympathy or mercy or kindness. She didn’t care which one of them lived or died, so long as she escaped.

And she owed the bait beast a life debt.

The bait beast had trounced him—not because he was bigger or stronger, but because he wanted it more. Titus had been a brute and a killer, yet this wyvern before her … he was a warrior

He had saved her life. Not by coincidence, but by choice. He’d felt the current running between them, too.

Bonded over a shared connection of being raised by brutes

Perhaps he had known long before tonight, and his fight with Titus hadn’t been so much about survival as it had been a challenge to claim her. As his rider. As his mistress. As his

Because she was Manon Blackbeak, and she’d never failed at anything. And there would be nothing better than watching Abraxos bite off Iskra’s head on the battlefield.

“My queen will die heirless sooner than marry a man from Adarlan.”

Same

“You’ll want levelheaded people who won’t hesitate to ask the hard questions. Loyalty is earned, not given.”