The Lesser Devil (The Sun Eater, #1.5)

by Christopher Ruocchio

Crispin smiled. He had always been the lesser devil. Always in Hadrian’s shadow, or his father’s. It had taken years, decades, to realize that it was this that had made him angry as a boy. This that had made him . . . whatever he’d been

Cultures are always built on the bones of the cultures that come before

If you answer violence with violence, you will inherit violence without end. Whoever slays the killer quickly discovers that killers are avenged sevenfold

“You know, I always wanted to be like him. When I was a boy. He was always better than me. A better student, a better fighter, a better everything. He could be an ass . . . ” He laughed a little. “But I loved him—love him, I suppose. I don’t think he’s dead. But it did always seem like I was in his shadow, you know?” “I do,” Laurent said, “but shadows shrink in time