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He hid a smirk as he turned the handle and swung open the dining room door for me. I seized hold of the image, capturing it quickly; a smile from the Lord of Cahlish was a rare thing. I’d started capturing each moment it happened on an imaginary vellum, filing the memories away in my mind to keep forever. The sight of his upturned mouth and the tentative laughter in his eyes made a nice addition to my collection.
Mate. Queen of Sanasroth. King Killer—
lost the parts of myself that knew how to feel anything other than pain and sorrow centuries ago. But for better or worse, you have brought me back to life.”
“To what end?
All libraries contained magic. Even libraries that didn’t specialize in such things. Because what was a book, if not a portal into another realm, another time, another life even. But magic hung thick in the air in this library.
I had been born into the light, but my salvation had been waiting for me in the dark.
‘I am so in love with Kingfisher. Kingfisher is so handsome. Look at his ass in those pants—’”
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.”
This thing between us, it was love, yes. But it was obsession, too. He was the making of me and my ruin. I thought about him relentlessly.
Correshan means lethal bliss. Death by pleasure,
Briarstone,
“You’re a wildfire, Saeris Fane. There’s no controlling you.”
Edina of the Seven Towers.
“Anything I ask of you, I give freely and willingly in return. Always. I promise.”
let my love be equal to yours.”
She really had come blazing into my life like a comet, and now she was changing everything.
Hide the truth from people, and you kept them in the dark. Burn the books, and you got to rewrite history and the future.
“It feels like trying to make sand flow backward in an hourglass. It feels like being surrounded by people and being the only one who can’t find the air in the room. It’s drowning on dry land. It’s the hollow ache of something that you know, from that moment on, will always be missing. It is a pain so acute and incurable that poets, pirates, and politicians alike die from it. And it never ends.”
