The Oleander Sword (The Burning Kingdoms, #2)

by Tasha Suri

I made you a promise once. Say my name, and though it makes me a fool—

and I know it does—I’ll find my way. I’ll come.

I wish you could be more than this. I wish you would grieve as I grieve, and hate as I hate, and be the person you were when you and Prem and I were boys. I wish, I wish.

“I barely understand it, the way I would willingly kneel for you, anywhere, for anything. The way I would fight for you. The way I want to be at your side. Is that what love is, Malini? Is that how awful love is? Because if it is, then I love you, the way that roots love the deep and leaves love the light. It’s—the way I am. And no matter how much I try to be good,

to do right—I’m all flowers in your arms, for your war, for you—”

Your gifts are you and you are your gifts, I don’t love you in pieces, I don’t separate you into parts.

How can you look at me so tenderly, and ask me to die for you?

Hate me, Malini. Hate me and live. I can love enough for the both of us.