The Ashes & the Star-Cursed King (Crowns of Nyaxia, #2)

by Carissa Broadbent

I craved honesty the way a flower craved sunlight. I even craved the pain of it, driven deep into my heart.

As a human, he’d felt every passing second—missed opportunities slipping by, as if swept away by an eternally rushing river. Humans mourn time, because it’s the only currency that really matters in a life so short.

the longing that came with it, a sudden, deep pang, like the drawing of a bow across the mournful string of a violin.

“I’d spend a lifetime at the tip of your blade, and it would have been worth it.”

“Let me make you the queen that you are. Let me guard your body, your soul, your heart. Let me spend the rest of my fucking pathetic life at your mercy. If I need to die, then let me do it by your hand. Please.”

As a young man, I used to think that bravery was the absence of fear. No. I’d learned since then that the absence of fear was only stupidity.