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“Our lives are the only real thing we have, our only coin. We get to buy what we want with them.”
“Because you’re like a story that hasn’t happened yet. Because I want to see what you will do. I want to be part of the unfolding of the tale.”
“Nice things don’t happen in storybooks,” Taryn says. “Or when they do happen, something bad happens next. Because otherwise the story would be boring, and no one would read it.”
“Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.”
It turns out that having kissed someone, the possibility of kissing hangs over everything, no matter how terrible an idea it was the first time. The memory of his mouth on mine shimmers in the air between us.
You and Cardan need to be turned out in splendor for this banquet. Your new king will need everything to look right.”
“Have I told you how hideous you look tonight?” Cardan asks, leaning back in the elaborately carved chair, the warmth of his words turning the question into something like a compliment. “No,” I say, glad to be annoyed back into the present. “Tell me.” “I cannot,” he says, then frowns.
