The Merciful Crow (The Merciful Crow, #1)

by Margaret Owen

“She’s got a point, Jas. Several, in fact. Enough points that I’m starting to think she’s mostly thorns.”

a peculiar wrath aching in her bones. He had no right to her, to any part of her, least of all her heart.

wolves of winter, though … Pa’d taught her to watch the starving wolf. When beasts go hungry too long, he’d said, they forget what they ought to fear.

“He looked at you the same way you look at roads.” Jasimir’s voice cracked. “Like where they go frightens you, and you love them for it.”

you act in anger, you’ve already lost.

“I reckon he started shining to you the moment you punched him. By the time Tatterhelm brought him in, that boy lit up like a torch anytime he caught your name. That’s a dedicated kind of shine to be sure. I’d wager some faith on it.”

“I missed you,” he whispered into her hair. “Gods, Fie, I’ve known you a moon and a half, and I swear I didn’t know I could miss anyone that much.”