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“What do you think I’m doing?” I snarled. “I’m saving the fucking fox!”
“She doesn’t need a garrote,” Taladaius objected. “It isn’t a garrote. It’s a belt,” Fisher replied amicably. In my head, he said, It’s a garrote.
parted the material of the dress along the slit to expose my bare thigh. Taladaius threw his hands in the air. “There’s no time for this!” “Oh, I don’t know. I think we might be able to spare a minute,” Carrion said.
I hate how these random storylines are being added. No one thought to mention in the first book that he had a TWIN?
Not for long because apparently he’s getting a new name
He was a creature of violence—it was his creed. But he was also this, too. When he loved, it was with everything he had.
“Every part. I love all of you.” He blew a dark curl out of his eyes. “I’d spend the fortunes of the universe to protect you. I’d drain the seas dry. Fell every tree. I would sacrifice the sun from the fucking sky and surrender the stars, too, if I could. But those things aren’t mine to give. All I have is my life. It isn’t much, but I’d spend it and consider the price small if it meant keeping you safe.”
“There it is,” I whispered. “What?” “The way that you love me. Some would say that is your weakness.” The lines of his face softened. “Some would say that,” he agreed. “But they would be wrong. It’s my strength.”
He was the making of me and my ruin.
Consider a sixth. Only the golden-toothed wolf can be trusted. —Entry from the journal of Edina of the Seven Spires
“It was Malcolm I wouldn’t swear fealty to,” Foley said softly. “I’ll swear it to her.”
“Fisher, it isn’t that simple.” He crooked his head to one side. “Isn’t it?” he asked softly. “It seems very simple to me. Wouldn’t you want to come and spend the afterlife with me if I died?” “Of course I would!” “Then let my love be equal to yours.” He spoke with a tenderness that made tears prick my eyes.
My shadows were at the ready, but Lorreth got there first. He rarely used his own innate magic. Once, he had told me that his people swore an oath not to use the magic they were born with. From the North, his people lived in the wilds and carved a pitiful life for themselves out of the tundra. They were strange folk, with even stranger beliefs. They considered their magic sacred, accidentally stolen from nature during the process of being born. To use their gifts was to flout that theft in front of the gods.
I just really don’t like these weird info dumps
“How can I consign myself to another endless dark when I’ve been given back the light?”
but it seemed my Fae powers coupled with high blood powers had increased my healing capabilities exponentially. I didn’t understand it, but I’d take it.
Wow what luck
Rise, Khydan Graystar Finvarra, in honor of the name you were given at birth! Rise up and fight!”
She buried her face in the seneschal’s neck, and she ripped out his fucking throat. Blood and viscera sprayed the snow.
Ew :/
He could only ever be Khydan to me now. And he was ready to face whatever awaited us on the other side of this door.
I’m so salty because I loved the name Kingfisher
Khy’s face was pale and running with sweat.
Oh great now he’s “Khy”
