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“When it was clear that you were onto my father,” he continues, “Alistair demanded to be transferred. He’s passed this way for the last five hundred years. Each new king in our line serves as his vessel.”
What the fuck
“The bracelet is enchanted and bound to you,” she tells me urgently. “It allows the usurper to channel magic from wherever he has gone.”
I am Meryn Sturmfrost, Queen of Nocturna, and I will use the twisting dark in my bones and my blood to hunt Killian Valtiere to the ends of the earth.
“You’re morose tonight,” Cratos, Stark’s direwolf, grumbles. “It’s a bore.”
Wolf snark finally
He glances around as he turns the final corner, making sure the elder daughter is not in view. Not that she’d know who he was, regardless. But still.
He knew pre-trials?!
Eventually, they all go mad. That’s their destiny. And watching them, waiting for them to lose themselves to it, unable to step in or even fucking say anything: That’s his.
Oooh
Fuck, she’s sensational. How inconvenient.
Hehehe
He suddenly thinks he understands what Cratos feels, coming home to Anassa. The relief is not in getting what he’s wanted, what he’s been pining for. It’s, instead, like he’s nursed an injury for years without even realizing it, and for a breath of a moment, he lives without it. He wants to crawl to her on his knees and lick the blood from her cheek.
What Stark would give to have this woman’s wild eyes on him.
Now THIS is what im talking about
Look. Look at me, Stark thinks at Meryn. This is all for you. Everything is for you.
From across the square, their eyes meet, and Stark feels that thing in his chest again, cracking, shifting, resettling. Like meeting like. The fire in her is astounding to behold. Stark will use every ounce of her hatred to stoke it—until she can burn the world down.
