These Infinite Threads (This Woven Kingdom, #2)

by Tahereh Mafi

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he said, his smile vanishing. “Even when you lie to me.”

He leaned in then, his throat working, his gaze fixed entirely on her mouth. “I hate everything about you. Your eyes. Your lips. Your smile.” His words grazed her skin when he said, softly, “I find your presence insufferable.”

“And I’m not sorry,” she added bitterly, turning to face him. “I’m not sorry I made a deal with your mother to murder you.” His lips twitched, his eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry I threw you off a cliff.”

“Kamran, I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to know that I ask it sincerely—” “What?” “Have you lost your mind?” The prince laughed at that, the sound hollow. “I lost my mind the moment I met her, Hazan, and you were there to witness my fall from reason, so don’t feign surprise now.”

Kamran had never known how muddy grief might be; it had never occurred to him that the death of a loved one might prove difficult to mourn, or that a heart might continue to beat long after it was broken.

There was something decidedly fascinating about Cyrus; something potent and complex, and prodding him for truth felt a lot like prodding a sore muscle; the results were both painful and pleasant.

“I have a theory,” he said, cutting her off as he walked backward to the door, “that if I were badly wounded, you would help me. True or false?” “False.” His smile widened. “Liar.” “I wouldn’t,” she said ruthlessly. “I’d leave you there and run for my life.” He was fighting a massive grin now, his eyes glittering with barely suppressed delight. “You would save me.”

“Heavens, Alizeh.” Cyrus had gone completely slack. “You might be the strangest girl I’ve ever met in all my life.” “Are you insulting me?” “Without question.”

“Yes, well,” he said, taking a sharp breath. “You strike me as precisely the sort of maudlin person who would appreciate the company of flowers while crying.”

Her parents had once warned her that her heart, if tuned precisely to compassion, would become a two-pronged tool: it would be her greatest strength and her greatest weakness.

“I didn’t know your name for so long, angel. I love the way it feels in my mouth.”

Ice ran through her veins, yes, but it had never made her coldhearted.

proving to Kamran once again that pleasure and torture were often delivered in the same blow.