More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Only one person remained on the docks as we sailed out of Roslo Bay. Jocelyn’s mother. She kept waving. She never stopped. Her arms had to be tired, but she kept waving to her daughter. I might be the woman wearing the crown, but Jocelyn was the one with the riches, wasn’t she?
I’d spend my midnight hours practicing. Dancing. Tillia had told me to treat fighting like a dance.
Reminded me of the "dancing alchemists" from Legends of Thezmarr and it made me smile
The last thing I needed was another nickname. But maybe, someday, if I ever saw Mae again, I’d tell her that once upon a time, a boy called me a legend tamer.
The corner of his mouth turned up. “I told you to stay quiet today.” “I couldn’t help myself. He made me mad.” “Gods save the men who make you mad.” He shook his head, and then a chuckle came from his throat. It preceded a smile.
“I saw you in Roslo. On the cliffside.”
I KNEW IT
Turah was perilous. Majestic. Horrifying. Stirring. It was every emotion, good and bad, woven into a landscape that had stolen my heart. Like its guardian.
“When I am nothing but dust and ash, Turah will endure. I do not need a crown. And I have made peace with my destiny. But before I step into my grave, my choice is you.”
The fall would break me apart, and though the fragments would stitch together again, the woman I’d been once would be gone. I was his. Not bound together by blood or vows or the treaties of men and magic. Bound by this night.
“I love you.” “Yes, you do. Don’t forget.”
AAAHH
