These Infinite Threads (This Woven Kingdom, #2)

by Tahereh Mafi

“Why—why do you continue to misjudge me? Why would you assume the worst of me based on a single scene you witnessed without context—” “You stunning little hypocrite,” he said angrily, “I might ask you the same question.”

And you have a single little freckle in the hollow at the base of your throat.”

Should you marry me, it would be in title only. I have no interest in your companionship.” The nosta went cold.

my beating heart is of no consequence.” He hesitated. “You have no idea what’s at stake. My life is the least of it.”

he might be forced to kill her.

U couldnt even if u tried

I stand here begging you to marry me—to kill me and take my nation, my crown, my legacy—and you won’t even say yes.” He closed his eyes and swore. “I really thought I’d already hit rock bottom, but this— This is a shade of wretchedness I’ve never known.”

What is your game?”

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.

“Take care, Cyrus,” she chided him. “If you keep laughing like that, I’m liable to think you have a heart.”

“It’s been so long since anyone has spoken to me in earnest that I fear I’ve lost perspective.”

“The field exists simply to exist.

“They hate me only because they fear me.” “Should they fear you?” “Yes.”

“I’ll make you a blood oath.”

“What an absurd question.” “Will you answer it anyway?” “No,” he said drily. “I’m not afraid of you.” The nosta went cold.

I can’t imagine what reason she’d have to waste magic on torturing herself,

She’d mopped the remaining blood from his face with the skirt of her white dress, and used the wet of her own silent, unceasing tears to gently scrub the lingering stickiness from his eyes, his skin.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

Perhaps if his hand stayed exactly where it was, things might turn out just fine.

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

“Did you wash my face, sweetheart?”

It was in fact the very lack of discomfort that kept him from remembering his new, grisly appearance.

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

It wasn’t right to be so attracted to a man she was meant to kill.

proving to Kamran once again that pleasure and torture were often delivered in the same blow. It made him think of Alizeh.

She’d simply stood tall, and his world had collapsed.

but she could not deny an urge to be just a little diabolical,

She saw an intensity in his stunning irises, something desperate straining against his control, and she swore in that moment she could almost feel his soul pressing against hers.

Something awoke in his eyes at that, a moment of misery there and gone,

“I won’t fight you.” He shook his head. “Forgive me. I never should’ve lifted my sword against you.” “Why not?” She bristled. “You don’t think me a worthy opponent?” “You,” he said ardently, “have always been too worthy. I will not hurt you.” The nosta burned against her skin.

“Alizeh,” he whispered. “I would destroy you.”

Alizeh held his eyes as she knocked the specimen to the floor,

There was something terrifying, yes, but also glorious about Cyrus as he stood there, shirtless and unrepentant, without a weapon, entirely unafraid. She was actually trembling a little.

while she suspected that the truth would hurt him, this—him thinking she’d abandoned him in that state—struck her as far worse. If nothing else, her pride couldn’t handle it.

“That wasn’t a dream?” “No,” she whispered.

“You cried for me?”

“You used your own tears,” he said, all but broken, “to wash the blood from my face?”

Cyrus had looked at her many times since she’d met him, and always with varying levels of intensity, but never quite like this. Never like he wanted to fall to his knees before her.

“I believe the words you used to describe me were quite charmingly pathetic.” Cyrus exhaled so hard she watched his chest cave a bit. He looked devastated. “I deserve to be shot for saying that to you.”

she wondered whether he stared at her now not with fear, but with longing.

She knew, dimly, that this was a bad idea, that she was playing with fire, but Alizeh had survived an inferno once, and she thought she might survive such a blaze again.

She saw a shudder move through him, a heavy exhalation that rocked his frame. He made a desperate, broken sound as he closed his eyes, but still, he didn’t touch her. He wouldn’t put his hands on her, wouldn’t put an end to her torment, and she was far too conflicted, even then, to claim him for herself.

“Alizeh,” he whispered. “Let me make ...

“Did you—” she said, panicking. “Are you trying to seduce me? To get me to marry you?” Cyrus looked like he’d been struck. He stared at her, his chest heaving, his eyes so plainly devastated she was overcome at once with regret.

“I would marry you,” he said, stepping closer again, coming dangerously within reach. “I’d marry you tomorrow. And then I’d take you to bed. For weeks.”

all for you.”

“And instead of being angry,” he went on, “instead of driving you away—instead of wishing we’d never met—I keep staring at that fucking cut on your neck, Alizeh, and I want to die.”

I saw you and saw right away that I was in hell, and I hated you for it, because I realized even then that you would be the end of me.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, tortured. “I’ve been dreaming about you for months.”

“Far from it. I always thought you were some kind of an angel.”

you always struck me as far too lovely to be associated with him. So generous, so sweet. So beautiful I could hardly look at you, even in my dreams. I thought my mind had magicked you to life as an antidote to my nightmares. I never dared to believe you might exist in real life.”