The Witches' Blade (Five Crowns of Okrith, #2)

by A.K. Mulford

“A common sickness amongst men who were raised to believe they were owed the world.”

A soldier stepped up behind Renwick and passed him a lit torch. “Your Majesty.” Lighting a candle, another soldier stepped up to Rua, bowing as he passed it to her. “Your Highness.” Rua frowned at the giant torch in Renwick’s hand and then back to her little candle.

she wondered if, even between the two of them, there might be enough to make one whole.

“You smell like wildflowers and fresh spring rains . . .” His eyes dropped down to her lips. “You smell like home.” Her lips parted as she let out a jagged breath. She smelled like home to him. Home. It was a place she didn’t have. But in the recesses of her mind, she knew home smelled like cloves and snowy forests.

wondered what she would do if she allowed herself one day, just one, to release that tightness in her chest. How far could she go without that leaden weight?

“I will see you in the next life, mea raga fede,”