The Puppeteer (Harrow Faire, #2)

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

Madness is an insidious disease. We do not see the danger until it is too late. It creeps into the cracks and crevices of the mind and makes itself at home, like carpenter ants in the framing of a home. We do not know the floor has rotted away until one ill-timed step destroys the façade of normalcy.

“You need to understand your cage before you can try to pick the lock.”

She felt his forehead rest against her. “I’m proud of you, cupcake. Standing up to me like that…If they see you unafraid to face me down, no one will mess with you. I’m not upset. Dress me down all you want in public, because someday soon you’ll let me dress you down in private.” He placed a kiss against her cheek, just by her ear. Slow and sensual.

“I can be very gentle, Cora. You might not think so. But I promise you—we can reclaim that part of your soul together. We can kill him and what he did once and for all, if you’ll let me. He tore you apart, and I will be the one to put the porcelain pieces back together. Only me, and no one else. I’m so very good at gluing shards of broken things together. Trust me…I’ve done it to myself plenty of times.”

Hate your cage. Find another. Build it with your own bare hands if you must—but understand that it is a cage all the same. Embrace it. Fashion it with pride. Make it your home. There is no such thing as freedom for our species. Take these words to your soul, and happiness will follow.