Immortality: A Love Story (The Anatomy Duology #2)

by Dana Schwartz

For anyone living ahead of their time

“That’s the thing about this sort of thing: a sharp bit of hurt now to save a lot of hurt adding up over time.”

If her reputation was already ruined, Hazel thought, well, so be it. Little harm it did to continue to ruin it.

And it was undignified for an adult man to be blond, wasn’t it?

“Every woman marries into obsolescence,” Eliza said. “The things that make us celebrated as young women—being charming, and being coquettish and being clever? In a married woman and mother, all of that becomes desperate and embarrassing, like wearing too much rouge. Even our educations serve no purpose after we’re wed. Charlotte and I were tutored in languages and music for the sake of becoming accomplished enough to attract husbands. We’ll marry, and become matrons, and then we will raise our sons to make decisions on our behalf.”

It was a rare gift, Hazel thought, to be surrounded by intelligent people who actually cared what you had to say.

A muse was celebrated, sure, praised and feted, but she existed entirely at the mercy of her artist, who was placing her high on a pedestal so small it didn’t allow her to move more than a step in either direction lest she fall.

Affection was poisoning her, taking over her brain and her thoughts like a growing weed.

it must be hard to exist as both a symbol and a person.

Edinburgh was a city that lived with death in its veins and embraced it with a grimace and a grin.

Hope was a dangerous thing. Most of the pain in the world, Jack had learned, was because of hope.

“I can survive a hanging and a stabbing and shipwreck and starvation,” he said. “And I still wouldn’t ever dare to do anything as foolish as standing up Hazel Sinnett.”

Byron sighed dramatically. “The only reason I’m any good as a poet is because I’m vain. If I cannot make myself more handsome, I can make my words more beautiful.”

Same story as always: they’re liberal until they’re old and rich and scared.”

“But turns out true stupidity is believing you’re secretly brilliant.”

There are always women behind the scenes, pulling the strings, Hazel. We are invisible to history, but we also survive.”

“Hazel?” “Yes?” “Just kiss me.” And she did.

“Will you still love me even if all of England despises me?” Hazel said. “We’re Scots, Hazel,” Jack said, a smile extending across his face. “If England hates you, we can hate them right back.”

Her heart was beating now, but still irregularly, a thump and then two smaller flutters and then another thump. And then it stopped. And started again. “How odd,” Hazel said. “You’re alive,” Jack breathed. “You took it— You drank it.” “There was wine at the wedding,” Hazel said. “It was a pledge of ‘as long as we both shall live.’ It seemed only fair.”

“My heart is yours,” he said. “Beating or still.”

“In two hundred years. In the year of our Lord two thousand and eighteen, when we all live beneath the sea, or in flying machines in the air, we can decide whether we want to continue on an immortal life together.”