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Gold may gleam, but it doesn’t stand the test of time. It wears down, loses its luster,
No submitting to a husband, no being shoved aside or treated like a coddled pushover.
I just want to sleep. Fall asleep and not wake up until everything stops hurting—physically and emotionally.
Are people so content in ignorance that they’ll believe every lie fed to them, despite what they see right in front of their eyes?
“So...your name is Keg.” The army’s cook grins at me. “My family owns a brewery back in Fourth. But I got off easy. My older brother is named Distill.” His brown eyes gleam with mirth as he shakes his head. “Unlucky, that. But we’re both a bit jealous of our sister, Barley. She’s got the best name of the lot.”
I’m also excellent at lying. After all, I’ve been lying to myself for years. Pretty lies cover up a lot of ugly truths.
The problem with truths is that they’re like spices. Add a little, and it can enrich things, let you experience more layers. But if you pour out too much, it becomes unpalatable.
“We’re all captives of something, even things we don’t want to admit to.”
The women might not all be the heads of their houses, but they speak into the ears of the men who are. If done right, those whispered encouragements can become the subconscious thoughts of ignorant men.
My lips part in surprise, all of my righteous indignation deflating.
Why is it that he can undress, and yet, it makes me feel vulnerable? Bright side? At least the view is nice.
Did I think he was beautiful before? I take it all back. He’s an ugly bastard.
“Sometimes,” he murmurs, “things need first to be ruined in order to then be remade.”
Yes, a lot of people hate the king. His wife just happens to be one of them.
Plotting is what I’m best at. A good thing too, since I lack both of the traits that this world respects: power and a penis.
Don’t lie down to make it easier for the world to keep you under its thumb. Own your shit and choose yourself.”
“Kindness shouldn’t have to be earned. It should be freely given.” Keg laughs softly. “My ma used to say something like that,” he replies, looking over at me. “And you know what?” “What?” “She was a damn smart woman.”
But like Lu said, it’s time to own my shit. It’s time to start choosing me.
