The Strength of the Few (Hierarchy, #2)

by James Islington

I ache at the thought, but there’s a hope in it too. A fresh start. No Hierarchy. No ceding. No lies. “Diago,” I eventually rasp, pointing to myself weakly. “Diago.”

Stop! I hope he gets this eventually everywhere

“It is unpleasant, but this is the world you and I live in, now. Men must be bought or compelled, rather than relied upon to do the right thing.

But men are still men. Strong and flawed and unpredictable, day to day. To weigh their potential without knowing their spirit… it cannot be done.”

But nor can I trust her. Not fully. Not ever, anymore. My parents were right. Love requires more. Anything less is a self-deception, a dream from which I’ll inevitably be woken.

I forget the audience, the stakes. I am the gods-damned crocodile.

I mean okay Vis whatever you say

Words sound the same coming from the honest and the deceiving, the informed and the deceived. They matter—never think otherwise—but most of the time, people need to be shown a truth before they will truly believe it.”

He sighs. Leans forward and briefly tousles my hair, the way he used to. “Most of the time I just want you all back.”

Sobbing

Poor luck? Poor luck is being powerless, Diago. Poor luck is being without choice. So many of us are aware of these currents, but are able only to drown in them.

You have found a joy and peace here that I thought would be forever lost to you. And though that time may be at an end, it has helped shape you into the man I always hoped you would be. Not just in your achievements—I was always proud of those. But in your happiness. In your outlook on life. You have taken these scars, these horrible scars, and you have learned not to let them define you.” A crack in his voice. “You were never alone here, Diago. And it was not because I watched over you.”

Actually crying