The Serpent and the Wings of Night (Crowns of Nyaxia, #1)

by Carissa Broadbent

The king did not know then that his greatest love would also be his ruination—nor that either would come in the form of a tiny, helpless human child.

im crying...

Shy. That was rich. I considered calling it that next time Vincent made a disparaging comment about the weakness of my magic. Don’t judge it. It’s just shy!

LMAOOOO

“You,” he breathed, “are being a shit about trusting me, and yet you’ve been hiding that?”

This is literally my Roman Empire

She was so, so young. Hard in some ways. Softly naive in others. She did not truly understand, yet, that vampires shone as the silver teeth of traps shone. Their beauty was a beckoning hand, promising sweet caresses. The little serpent was so very lonely. She slithered right into those lovely, elegant fingers. She did not even see the claws.

Thats so beautifully written

His anxiety was just as strong as mine. Different—a rolling undercurrent rather than staggering waves—but every bit as powerful.

And then I realized. I realized that fear, when embraced, hardens and sharpens. That it becomes rage. That it becomes power.

“I’ve lived through some injustices in the last couple of centuries. Seen some fucking travesties. But one of the biggest, Oraya, is that anyone taught you that you should become anything other than exactly what you are.”

Fear is a collection of physical responses, I told myself. Fear is accelerated heartbeats and rapid breaths and sweaty palms. Fear is a doorway to anger, and anger is a doorway to power.