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Why did the health of the empire, the lives of millions, have to depend on a tiny subset of wealthy people being kind?
“I want to live,” I said, replacing Ye Eun’s lily behind my ear, “because life is . . . is worth it. Because as long as we can imagine a better world, we should stick around to see it. Even if it doesn’t exist yet. Even if we have to build it from scratch, brick by muddy brick.”
“Iranti,” I murmured, a word in old Arit. “Memory.”
Aaaaaaaaaaaaa YASSSSDDDDSSSSSS
Iranti never forgets.
“I wish,” I whispered, though my voice ricocheted from the echo-stones, “that the Rays of Enoba would no longer be bound to a man and woman from the house of Kunleo. That instead—from this day forward—the Rays and their power would belong to the people of Aritsar. That the next Raybearers could be anyone—from a queen to a pig farmer. So long as those two Raybearers are worthy—those best suited to bring peace to the empire.”
NY BABYYYYYYYYYILYYYYYYYYYY AAAAAAA
