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“Zoya,” Nikolai said. “War can make it hard to remember who you are. Let’s not forget the human parts of ourselves.”
“So you’ll remember when I meet you in the next world,” she said softly. She tossed the notebook onto the fire.
Maybe relentless gloom and persistent sunshine were the right combination.
Because I am greedy for the sight of you. Because the prospect of facing this war, this loss, without you fills me with fear. Because I find I don’t want to fight for a future if I can’t find a way to make a future with you.
“I would give you a crown if I could,” he said. “I would show you the world from the prow of a ship. I would choose you, Zoya. As my general, as my friend, as my bride. I would give you a sapphire the size of an acorn.” He reached into his pocket. “And all I would ask in return is that you wear this damnable ribbon in your hair on our wedding day.”
You push us away, keep us at arm’s distance so that you won’t mourn us. But you’ll mourn us anyway. That’s the way love works. Understanding burned through her like fire from a dragon’s mouth, leaving her weightless as ash. She would never be able to save them all.
I’m sorry I can’t save you. But I can avenge you. I can love you and let you go.
Not impossible, he supposed. Just improbable.
a mother cradling her son, calling him home.
Nikolai couldn’t feel sorrow for the man the Darkling had become, but he could regret the loss of someone who had begun with so much promise, so much belief in what might be accomplished if only he was clever enough, strong enough, brave enough to risk it all. Who might he have been if the world had been kinder? If Ravka had been better to its people all along?
