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

by Carissa Broadbent

Tell me, little butterfly, what would you do for love?

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

Maybe it was my petty act of defiance, then.

“What’s your name?” I asked the boy. A wrinkle of confusion deepened over his brows, which framed terrified blue eyes. “Wh-what?”

But sometimes it was so damned hard to be kind.

“A wise man once told me that creating is harder than destroying.”

“Fight the inevitable. Even when it makes us fucking idiots.”

People kept looking at me and I decided not to care.

What was it about six-hundred-year life spans that made one so frustratingly bad at communication?

I was so, so selfish—and I didn’t even care. You were the one that wanted to save the world. I just wanted to save you. Max told me that, once. Now it seemed ironic. He had thought there was absolutely nothing that mattered to me more than my people, my goals, my duty. He had been wrong. There was one thing more important.