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“Is she some sort of queen?” “What? No.” Penelope looks up at me, disgusted. “Mages don’t have queens.” “Oh, right, pardon me for making that assumption in a country that actually has a monarchy.”
“Basil. Don’t pout.”
“I think I’m well and truly fucked. Just like you said.” She glares up at him. “I was only insulting you, Shepard. I was trying to make you feel so bad about your actions that you won’t repeat them; it’s a common parental tactic. You are well and truly fucked, but I don’t intend to leave you this way.” She smiles at him, just a little.
When he still had magic. And then he told me I was all he had left to lose. I thought that meant that he wouldn’t let me go. But maybe Snow was trying to tell me his plans: You’re all I have left to lose, and eventually I will.
I thought we had the sort of love that you can’t set down or walk away from. An undying fire. The love you hear about in the old stories. No one told Simon Snow the old stories.
know I’ll never love anyone like I love Baz. I know he’s the love of my life. Of all my lives.
This was my life to find love. The truest love. The biggest. But it isn’t my life to have it. I’m too … broken.
“I love you,” I say. (And I know it’s a not a thing. I know it doesn’t matter.) I turn away from him then, and tuck my wand in my pocket. It’s only anger making my legs move. I can’t believe he’s doing this, I can’t believe I’m leaving. I can’t believe this is it—that this is how we’re ending.
It wasn’t the Mage. It wasn’t the War. It wasn’t the Humdrum. I stop at the door. I look back at Simon one more time. “I never thought I’d be the first thing you ever gave up on.”
“I want to … try. Because—Because I love you, Baz. I love you, and I didn’t think that I could keep you. But if there’s a chance … If there’s any chance at all … I can’t—I want—I need—”
He frowns. “I thought—I mean … I’ve killed so many things for you.”
You’re in me so deep, I wouldn’t know how to dig you out.
“Who are you fighting in this scenario?” “Myself, I suppose.”
