Between Two Fires

by Christopher Buehlman

Thomas called for her for a dozen times or more, but then his voice went hoarse fighting the dry wind, and he set off down the road heading south. If he took big steps, he just might pass her.

Im crying

Despite his predicament, Thomas suddenly missed Père Matthieu so badly he almost sobbed.

they had seen enough fighting to know a killer’s eyes, even through steam and in the flickering light of candles.

One of the four knights was Chrétien d’Évreux, heir to the throne of Navarre, and the man who had stolen his land, his wife, his knighthood, and his soul.

Well! Shit.

“Jesus Christ, forgive me,” Jacquot said. The old cardinal near him disliked his words so much he unhinged his jaw and bit Jacquot’s face, dragging the skin from it and leaving his lidless eyes staring in disbelief. Blood all over the young cardinal, his silk gloves. Jacquot fell.

I WAS LIKE OMG THAT DUDE FROM THE BEGINNING HOW'D YOU GET HERE- ohhhh annnd hes dead ok

ARE YOU SURE? Yes. Are you?

The worst pain she had ever felt.

“I think so,” he said. His voice a little boy’s voice.

He was his very young son, as he looked the last time Thomas had seen him.

UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“Thomas de Givras,” it said, looking down at him paternally, “I damn thee.” “Where . . . where will I go?” “Out.” “How?” “Don’t you think I’m tired of that question? Can’t you think of me?” “May I just stay here with you?”

"May I?" oh im crying

Thomas de Givras, I damn thee and then chewing him down alive. He shivered and let it. I damn thee He cried and let it.

i've never been so enraged ever

She whom he had loved as a daughter, and more than that, if that were possible, had come again to give him hope. He grew angry.

You’re Him. There is no him or her. Why did you not come as I would know you? I came as you would follow me. I came as you would love me in innocence.

Love is always harder. Love means weathering blows for another’s sake and not counting them.

Those gray eyes through every part of him, loving what was strong and what was weak indifferently.

Was that what had happened? No. But it was what men could stand to remember.

“Which rhymes with Thomas. Would you like to know my name?” she said. “I already do.” She smiled impishly. She liked games. “Then tell me.” He bent toward her. This would be a secret. Little Moon.