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“You have to care. You have to choose to care. The way you are, if you don’t, you won’t—and she’ll know. Just like you did. You cannot do that to her. She has to be someone that you decide to care about.”
With nothing else to do, Helena began writing, filling a journal with everything she could think of. She wanted it all written down: her version of events. Who she was, and what she’d chosen, and why. Answers to all the questions she’d ever wished she’d asked her own mother.
“I think I should go.” “Come here,” Helena said, not giving him a moment to interpret her silence as agreement.
The tiny hand instantly closed around his finger, gripping it. Helena watched him and recognised the expression that slowly filled his eyes as he stared at the tiny person tenaciously clinging to him: possessive adoration.
They’d all bided their time, waiting until the situation grew intolerable for them, and only striking after their victory was assured, and still somehow they were heroic.
He gave Lila no such consideration. He beat her weaknesses out of her.
She had not come back to rule. She wanted those lost remembered, and she wanted the tragedy of the war confronted, not buried, so that it could not happen again.
“Love isn’t as pretty or pure as people like to think. There’s a darkness in it sometimes.
She was a non-active member of the Order of the Eternal Flame and did not fight.