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But the Nightmare had already begun to vanish into the dark chasm of my mind. My magic moves, he said. My magic bites. My magic soothes. My magic frights. You are young and not so bold. I am unflinching—five hundred years old.
No Card is worth a formal introduction to Hauth Rowan. Says the girl who talks to the monster in her head. Not exactly Princess material, are we, my dear?
I love him
“Fuck.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s twice you’ve handed me my ass and run off.”
“You’re a decent liar,” he said, turning back to the mist. “You’ll fit right in.”
When the shadows grow long, when our names turn to dust, what we loved, what we hated, will spoil to rust. All will be forgotten, save one truth, unshaken… What did we do when the children were taken?
“I can’t tell you,” I said, more forceful than before. “You won’t want anything to do with me if I do.” Ravyn exhaled. “Then your estimation of me is lower than I imagined.”
“You’re smiling.” Elm looked over the table. “Does no one else find that incredibly unnerving?”
“The Scythe Card higher than most,” I said. “I’ve heard, if used too long, the pain is excruciating.” Elm feigned a gasp. “No one told me—I’ll stop using it at once!” I scowled. “It’s a risk.” “So is treason,” the Prince bit back. “And yet, here we are.”
“Are you still pretending?” I said, reveling in his gaze. Ravyn gave a surprised laugh and, in front of everyone, leaned in and kissed me. “I never was,” he whispered into my lips.
They’ll see you hang, Yew, the Nightmare said. You cannot save her.
