These Infinite Threads (This Woven Kingdom, #2)

by Tahereh Mafi

He’d only stood there and stared at her and all but allowed her to strike him.

his hand trembling almost imperceptibly

He would kill her.

He couldn’t decide then what disturbed him more: to realize that she and Cyrus shared a mutual friend in the devil, or to discover that his body still wanted her, still heated at the mere sound of her voice—

Was she doing this to him? Had she access to dark magic?

By the angels, how many more blows need his body survive tonight?

You were ACTIVELY TRYING TO KILL HER. You killed HER PERANTS. but sure youre the victim

“You can see her.”

“I thought she broke through the fire to punish me,” Cyrus was saying. “I see only now that she did so to protect you.”

There was a flicker in those blue irises, and for a second Cyrus betrayed himself. Beneath his placid surface was something desperate and unrestrained, if not broken. Kamran cataloged the moment as a kind of mercy, for he realized then that the young man was a king weaker than he appeared.

“But then, it’s my prerogative to know the name of my bride.”

“There is very little honor left in me, Melancholy King. Certainly not enough to die when I deserve it.”

leaving her floating on a patterned rug.

Why do you need to know my name?” “So that I may hate you more informally.” “Ah. Well, in that case, you may call me Cyrus.” “Cyrus,” she said.

“To marry me.”

This was a habit Alizeh had mastered long ago. Cataloging moments of grace even in the midst of disaster often helped steady her mind; indeed there had been days in her life so bleak that Alizeh had resorted to counting her teeth if only to prove she still owned something of value.

“You’ve been truly suffering,” he said. “Why did you say nothing?” She was unable to meet his eyes when she confessed quietly: “I am always suffering.

I bound my life to yours before I even knew your name—before I had any idea who you were or what you looked like.

“Is it terribly thrilling to imagine yourself the sole object of my thoughts and desires?

game—I knew he’d sent you to me, specifically, to torture me—as if I might be so tempted by the sight of you that I would bend in but a moment to your wishes, abandoning in the process an oath I signed with my soul, ensuring I am bound to him forevermore. No. I will not be moved by you—and you have underestimated me if you think I will succumb to your charms.”

“Try to weaponize those eyes against me again and I will have them permanently sewn shut.”

That Alizeh heard the slight tremor in his breath when he finally exhaled, or that she noticed the unsteadiness with which he touched his fingers to the brim of his hat, did not rate mention.

passive aggression, the preferred weapon of cowards.

His eyes were charged with something both electric and devastating,

“As I thought,” he whispered. “You’re too soft even to bear the weight of my attentions.” Alizeh laughed quietly as she pressed a finger to the wind, felt the current curl under her touch. “The sky, too, is soft,” she said. “Yet all who fall into its arms will perish.”

fog. In the shattering moonlight she saw the faint outline of what appeared to be the end of the earth.

The heaviness of night drew back in an unhurried reveal, inches of dark pleating away not unlike curtains on a stage. An audience of one stood impatient before the sight, waiting with bated breath for the set dressing of the next scene, the next act in her life.

Oh, she had never feared death. No, it was life that scared her, life that scarred her. It was the slow torture of consciousness that had done its utmost to crush her.

garbage article.

Wheres the lie

His blue eyes were luminescent and somehow frigid, and for the briefest moment Alizeh thought she sensed in him what she still carried within herself— A vast, bottomless grief.

“Of all the trials I’ve recently endured,” he said, turning his face up to the sky. “You are by far the most excruciating.”

How long would she be forced to fight for her life? More important: Was her life really worth so much effort?

How was Kamran meant to condemn someone who’d debased himself in the interest of his own protection?

He’d thought with age and experience his ideas of the world would grow only more certain; instead, the opposite had proven true. The more he lived—the more he endured—the more convinced Kamran became that he knew nothing at all.

Hazan said, “With all due offense, sire, please fuck off.”

An innocent young woman was being actively hunted by your grandfather for the terrible crime of existing, lest you forget.

“She is working with the devil.”

You band of IDIOTS

“No. I think I prefer the real Hazan.”

Alizeh was grateful for the good in her life, really she was, but sometimes she longed for a joy undiluted; she wanted to know what it was to smile unhampered by darkness, to laugh without knowing the drumbeat of pain, to see friends without the shadow of uncertainty. What was uncomplicated happiness? She dearly wished to know.

The problem was, she did not feel unequal to him.

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

MELT THE ICE IN SALT BRAID THE THRONES AT SEA IN THIS WOVEN KINGDOM CLAY AND FIRE SHALL BE

“I hate you,” he whispered. Alizeh blinked, her heart pounding too hard in her chest. “I know.” 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 there was only so much eye contact with Cyrus she could handle.

“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.” “Excellent,” she said, matching his anger.

“Should you choose to tell her why, you’ll only ruin all my fun. Soon thereafter you shall die, bit by bit and both are done.”

When I’m finally free, I give you leave to kill me at your leisure and take Tulan for yourself.”

“My kingdom,” he said softly. “For your hand.”

“Alizeh,” said Cyrus quietly, and for a moment he looked quite desperate. “Please.” Oh, she was not made of stone. She was not unaffected by the sound of his voice nor the tragedy in his eyes.

You talk almost as if you want to die.”

the devil’s darling,”