More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Read between
January 8 - January 18, 2025
In her twenty or so years of life, she had yet to come upon a language she didn’t immediately understand.
“You’re playing with things you don’t understand, Nahri. They’re not your traditions. You’re going to get your soul snapped up by a demon if you’re not more careful.”
Though I suppose anyone would be devoted, considering they worshipped phalluses and fish and preferred orgies to prayer.”
“I’m not sleeping alongside you in some temple dedicated to fish orgies.”
Lmao
“Such affection for the shafit thief?” She raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t so fond of me a week ago.” He grumbled. “I can change my mind, can’t I?” A blush stole into his cheeks. “Your company is not . . . entirely displeasing.” He sounded deeply disappointed in himself.
“We’re souled beings like humans, but we were created from fire, not earth.” A delicate tendril of orange flame snaked around his right hand and twisted through his fingers. “All the elements—earth, fire, water, air—have their own creatures.”
Those created from dirt, like humans, usually can’t see the rest of us. Besides, most magical beings prefer wild places, places already empty of your kind. If a human had the misfortune to come across one, they might sense something, see a blur on the horizon or a shadow out of the corner of their eye.
“It’s not haunted,” Wajed countered. “It simply . . . misses its founding family.”
Which Afshin’s handiwork had that atrocity been again? Artash? Or was it Darayavahoush?
“You’re my Banu Nahida. This is my city.” His expression was defiant. “Nothing will keep me from either of you.”
Scattered minds are the enemy of magic.
It seemed a reasonable plan. Then again, most things had lately—right before they blew up in his face.
Her birdman shrieked, flapping his feathered arms from atop his bed of sticks.
Lmao
Nahri went cold. She met Dara’s eyes, praying she was wrong, praying that the man she trusted above all others was not really forcing this choice upon her.
“Sand fly, dog, crocodile . . . Are you just working your way through the animals you can name? How many can be left? Five? Six?”
His face turned colder, and so Nahri smiled, the first time she’d done so since Dara’s death. It was the smile she’d given the basha, the smile she’d given to hundreds of arrogant men throughout the years just before she swindled them for all they were worth. Nahri always smiled at her marks.
