Mother of Death & Dawn (The War of Lost Hearts, #3)

by Carissa Broadbent

It’s not all that hard to keep yourself sane, so long as you’re flexible with your definition of the term.

What makes you think, Maxantarius, that nightmares are not real? Perhaps it is all real, and that is the greatest nightmare of all.

Hello, lost child,

Death was like a lost lover. We circled each other. I craved more with every brush of its touch. All I wanted was for it to take me to its bed and never let me leave.

“Five hundred years is a very long time,” he said, at last. “One hundred and eighty thousand days, and I thought of you in every one.”

Self-control made a soul tired.

When I killed, it was like returning home.

How much does a memory weigh? Too much to carry alone.

This arm band didn’t say, Here I am. Come rescue me.

It said, Here I am. Bring me an army.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, in Aran. “It’s been awhile.” “You’re a long way from home,” I said, in Thereni. “We speak my language here.”

It is a privilege to do nothing,

And that’s what we are fighting for, today. For a better, imperfect dawn after a long, imperfect night.

“Do not fear death, my daughter. We all walk with one foot in each world. There is beauty in impermanence. And what sad lives we would live, if we never loved anything we would lose.”

“There are three great unknowns in this world,”

“A lifetime of learning has taught me the only constant is that nothing ever truly ends.”

“Your heart is a part of my heart,”