More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
She was not a man, not a prince, whose temper would be seen as strength or whose unusual methods might be seen as visionary instead of disruptive.
If it would not ruin her to do so, she would happily go anywhere with him.
“I’m just a soldier after all. You are the queen.” “I do not take credit for the efforts of others. And I am not a queen yet.” “You are something, or you are not. A title that someone else bestows upon you does not make it more or less true. You,” he said, “are a queen as I had never dared to hope might exist.”
She had to trust him. She did trust him. That did not make it easier to have no oversight, no control.
“All magic is beautiful,” she said, “and terrible. Do you not see the beauty in yours, or the terror in mine?” Her fingers brushed his cheek. “You can stop a heart, and I can stop your breath.”
She was not going to forgive him. The thought brought on a hitch of desperation. He could not bear it if he never saw her again, never spoke to her again. If she despised him.
“All right, Sultana. I am at your side. Command me.”
“You are the most beautiful thing to ever happen to me.”
You could not wish a person into being what you wanted them to be.
“I told you that between you and me is not the place to control yourself, and I also told you I can feel your grief,” he said into her hair, which had spilled over her shoulders and around them. “If I let go“—Naime sucked in a shaking breath—”we will spend this time picking up all my broken pieces.” “I want them,” Makram said. “I can help you carry them.”
