An Ember in the Ashes (An Ember in the Ashes, #1)

by Sabaa Tahir

The field of battle is my temple. The swordpoint is my priest. The dance of death is my prayer. The killing blow is my release.

“You are an ember in the ashes, Elias Veturius. You will spark and burn, ravage and destroy. You cannot change it. You cannot stop it.”

Defiance flashes across her face as she holds my gaze, and for a second, I see my own desire for freedom mirrored, intensified in her eyes.

I follow, my whole body rebelling at the thought of putting my life in the hands of a Mask.

A mask who doesnt wear his mask

I like that Laia says things I don’t expect, that she speaks almost formally, as if she’s telling a story. I like that she defied my mother to go to the Moon Festival, whereas Helene always obeys the Commandant. Laia is the wild dance of a Tribal campfire, while Helene is the cold blue of an alchemist’s flame.

I look to Keenan, but he appears almost bored, and I’m shaken at how his eyes can go cold as quickly as a candle being blown out.

For a great wrong must be righted, a wrong that grows greater with every life destroyed.

I arch into him, reveling in his strength, his fire, the alchemy between us twisting and burning and melding until it feels like gold.

That alchemy lures, beckons, burns.

“If you could just be who you are in here”—I place my palm over his heart—“instead of who they made you, then you would be a great Emperor.”

“You are full, Laia. Full of life and dark and strength and spirit. You are in our dreams. You will burn, for you are an ember in the ashes. That is your destiny.

Whoever killed the girl won the Trial.

Exactlyyy and no one did

This—this—was what Cain spoke of: the freedom to go to my death knowing it’s for the right reason. The freedom to call my soul my own. The freedom to salvage some small goodness by refusing to become like my mother, by dying for something that is worth dying for.