These Infinite Threads (This Woven Kingdom, #2)

by Tahereh Mafi

Never again would he allow a woman to own his emotions; never again would he be made weak by such base temptations. He swore it then: this monster from the prophecy would die by his hand—he would drive a blade through her heart or die trying.

You are by far the most excruciating.” “I’m pleased to hear it.” “It’s not a compliment,”

Kill him, darling. I need your help to kill him.”

With all due offense, sire, please fuck off.”

“The distortion of the magic,” Hazan said finally. “It means your right to the crown is no longer absolute. It means there might live a worthier inheritor of the throne.”

“Forgive me,” said Cyrus quietly, “but do you intend to make it a habit of wearing transparent garments in my presence? Do tell me now, I beg you, so that I might blind myself in anticipation.” Alizeh opened her eyes, a quiet rage building in her chest even as her battered dignity demanded she blush. “How dare you,” she whispered. “It’s only that I can see straight through the front of your dress,” he said, gesturing vaguely at her body. “And I’m beginning to see that this is a pattern with you.”

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

“Wicked girl,” he whispered. “You’ve been making deals with my mother.”

Are you so incapable of anticipating that I might want more than the paltry, monosyllabic responses you serve?”

For the love of God, Hazan,” he said with a sigh. “Do cease being useless to me.” “I promise to consider it.”

But you’re terribly morbid.” “I fear your presence inspires me.”

You stunning little hypocrite,” he said angrily, “I might ask you the same question.”

I have no interest in your companionship.” The nosta went cold.

“I warn you,” said Cyrus. “If you weep, I might vomit.”