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Overall, she was a drab creature, one who went unnoticed and unremarked in a crowd.
“Now you know. The exiled god who once crushed the world and was imprisoned by Conclave is more than a light in the sky, and he has decided to take up residence here.”
“Let him go, Gurn.” He stared at her, his silent anger palpable. She took his hand and squeezed. “Such words only hurt when the person saying them means something to you.”
know what I see,” he breathed into her ear and thrust against her palm. “Know what I hold. This is what you do to me.”
She was strength through endurance, resolve and compassion, all overlaid by a faint melancholy—and love for him.
smile if necessary to stop the bishop. The crows’ discordant songs faded, and he drifted on the edge of sleep, content to savor Martise’s warmth. She stirred, slid her foot along his calf. Her voice, cool and faintly challenging, brought him fully awake. “What will protect me from you?” He pulled her hard against him and nipped her shoulder. "Nothing."
She rose, and he stood as well. “A man with clear sight into his own soul will always make a wise decision.”
History might see him as a hero, like Berdikhan. None would know he’d martyred himself, not for a world, but for this woman.
“You don’t love me, but I love you. I will never betray you.” Silhara kissed her, tongue
He loved her to the point of madness, to obsession and even sacrifice.
“And will you love me for a day? A year? A lifetime?” She knew the answer but wanted to hear him say it in that beautiful, shattered voice. “Beyond that,” he whispered, eyes shining with the tempest of emotion he’d held in check until now. “Beyond the reign of false gods and meddlesome priests. Beyond al Zafira when her bright stars fade.”
