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Delilah Bard—always a thief, recently a magician, and one day, hopefully, a pirate
At that, Kell smiled. It was a rare thing, and Rhy wanted to hold fast to it—he was the only one who could make his brother smile, and he wore it like a badge
He took another drink. And then another, and another, in preparation for the ache of want and loss and memory washing over him, a small boat pitching miserably against the waves.
Kell had always been a fan of silence.
I loved him the way the moon loves the stars—that is what we say, when a person fills the world with light.”
“Next time I walk away,” she whispered into his skin, “come with me.”
People spoke of love as if it were an arrow. A thing that flew quick, and always found its mark. They spoke of it as if it were a pleasant thing, but Maxim had taken an arrow once, and knew it for what it was: excruciating.
A myth without a voice is like a dandelion without a breath of wind. No way to spread the seeds.
Even after all they’d seen and done, Kell still had faith in people. She hoped, for all their sakes, he was right. Just this once.
Alucard, the captain, and Emery, the noble. In the end, he had chosen neither. Today he was Alucard Emery, the man courting a king.
“What are you doing?” asked Rhy softly, and Alucard’s whole body sang to hear this voice, the one that belonged not to the king of Arnes, but to the prince he’d known, the one he’d fallen in love with, the one he’d lost.
