Legendary (Caraval, #2)
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For it was also said the Prince of Hearts was not capable of love because his heart had stopped beating long ago. Only one person could make it beat again: his one true love. They said his kiss had been fatal to all but her—his only weakness—and as he’d sought her, he’d left a trail of corpses.
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“Fortune-tellers aren’t like you and me. They see the world as it could be, and sometimes they try to bring about what they want, rather than what should be.”
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Once a future is foretold, that future becomes a living thing and it will fight very hard to bring itself about.
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Dante had wings. And, holy mother of saints, they were beautiful—soulless jet-black with midnight-blue veins, the color of lost wishes and fallen stardust. He was turned toward his nightstand washing his face, or maybe he was kissing his reflection in the mirror.
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Tella was amazing; of course Death would want to keep her.
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“But the best villains are the ones you secretly like, and my nana always said Legend was the villain in Caraval.” Dante’s lips twisted into something like a smirk. “Of course she did.”
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“Definitely helping.” Dante began untwisting her hair, letting his warm fingers brush her neck, and then leaving them on her pulse as he whispered, “Even if I wasn’t Legend I would want you to win.”