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“An ancient power…loosed…from thrall. Two worlds smothered…by a pestilent…pall.” The Lyverian mother’s words were broken by her dying breaths. “From the tree of rot…the insects…crawl. Decay and blight…unslain by steel…will bring…the strongest men…to kneel.”
“How can I convince you that the only thing that could possibly force me away from you is death? And even then, I’d find a way to get back to you.”
“To be fair, your chivalry, however dark and morbid and brimming with lunacy it may have been, warmed my heart. No one has ever offered to destroy the world for me.”
“Eyes on the task, Maevyth. Eyes on the task,”
I’m not a victim, he assured himself. Almost believing that. “I wanted this,” he said into the universe, the tears in his eyes betraying his words. “I deserve this.” I deserve this.
“If Jeret kills the prince, then we are, as they say, truly fucked.”
“Who in God’s name is that?” Corwin asked, his voice shaky. “The reason she’s not interested in you,” Aleysia answered.
“My precious daughter. You were not meant to become a delicate flower, but the frost that wilts the vine. It is your strength in a world that seeks warmth and frailty in a woman. Steel your bones, and do not bend, or break to their will. Accept what you are and what you will become.” “What am I to become?” “Vindicated.”
“My obsession knows no bounds, moon witch. I’d tear apart the heavens and sacrifice my own soul for you.”
“Have you dreamed of others and gotten ideas?”
“Yes. All of your personalities. My favorite is anger. She’s lovely in dreams.”
“Beautiful is too ordinary a word for you.” “Ordinary?” I breathed a laugh. “And what would the mighty assassin call me if not beautiful?” He trailed his fingertip down my temple. “I would call you the soft glow of moonlight in a pitch-black world. A prayer I never spoke aloud, but somehow the gods answered anyway. The strike of lightning I dare to behold without flinching.” His brow flickered as he ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “The reason I breathe.”
Unfortunately for her, Zevander was the most selfish bastard there was.
“The world has taken everything from me. My morals. My body. My fucking soul. You’re all I have, moon witch. The only thing that gives me worth, and if it takes my life to keep you safe then I will gladly surrender it. For you.”
“You can’t take too much. Not when I’m giving myself freely. All of me. For you, Zevander.”
I loved him. Not simply because we were fated but for the way he trusted me with the vulnerable parts of him long hidden behind steel and violence. My beautifully broken protector whose scarred and blood-stained hands held me as if I were a coveted treasure.
“We are written in blood. Born for each other. And not even the gods can tear us apart.”
“Morsana! Give him back to me!”
“Shit on a shamrock, I think our luck just fizzled out,”
A smiled tugged at Zevander’s mouth. “Hello, shitbag. Nice of you to show up.”
