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“When you smile, I feel as if there is happiness quivering on your lips, just here.” He brushes my mouth with the tip of his thumb. “And if I want it, all I have to do is…”
“That’s too bad.” He pulls back slowly. “I could make you forget your own name.” “And I could make you forget the past,” I reply.
Those with money and privilege seem to find ways around every law, while the poor have no choice but to submit.
“And you love this mountain, the one that could kill you without meaning to?” I press my palm over his heart. “I do.” “The mountain would give you everything in its power.” He leans in, lips brushing mine. “But the one thing a mountain cannot do is move. It cannot give up its place, or abandon those who depend on it.”
“Because if you do not want a throne, I might leave mine for you.”
“Then yes. Yes to everything. Yes, over and over, as long as I live, if I can have this one ‘yes’ from you, right now. Will you be my Favored one, Cailin, my everything, my queen, my wife?”
When someone dies, everyone expects you to perform your grief for them. They watch your reactions carefully, to see how your emotions fit into their personal construct of how loss and sorrow should look.
