Symphony for a Deadly Throne (Mousai, #3)

by E.J. Mellow

If ever you venture beyond our hidden caved city, you will most assuredly hear foul, unkind words spoken about the Thief Kingdom. While most have never visited here nor ever will, they still hate us. That is the nature of people when they do not understand a thing, when they fear what is not like them.

Arabessa realized then how painful it was to grow. To move forward into something new. How hard it could be to carve one’s own path and who might have to be left behind in the process.

Hope. The word took the wind from him. Hope. A naive, childish emotion. An airy, subtle fragrance. One that could easily be blown away by any other feeling. Anxiousness, fear, anger. No, there was no hope here.

You must have learned by now that it takes a great deal to get rid of a Bassette.” “Worse than weeds, we are.” Niya nodded.

She played with the corner of the blanket she was wrapped in, her scar catching the fire’s light as she glanced his way. “And I suppose an ugly part you’ll have to look upon every now and again after we marry.” “It is not ugly,” assured Zimri. “It ruined me being perfect.” Kattiva frowned. “A sentiment my mother liked to remind me of when I was younger.” “Your mother is an idiot,” said Zimri. Kattiva choked on her startled laugh. “Collector, you delight me with your candor.” “It is less candor than fact, for perfection is not real.” “Says the man who is no doubt perfect under that disguise.” “Hardly.” He shook his head. “And despite what scars mark my skin, you and I both know appearance is an illusion, especially in this kingdom. Those who most deem ugly often carry beautiful souls, and those beautiful, foul ones. Perfection is a made-up construct. It is much like time: it cannot be held, and only fools would waste sands falling in an attempt to try.”