Cursed (Gilded #2)

by Marissa Meyer

There are only the secrets we share and those we conceal. Our own choices, or the fear of making a choice.”

“I had no intention of carrying you all the way. You needn’t have struck me.” “Believe it or not, it was the highlight of my evening.” “Oh, I do believe it,” he said, his eyes flashing. But—not with fury. If anything, he seemed amused.

Love grew out of shared memories, shared stories, shared laughter. Love was a result of knowing the many things a person did that annoyed you to the ends of the earth, and yet, somehow, still wanting to hold them at the end of every day and be held by them at sunrise every morning. Love was the comfort of knowing someone would stand by you, accept you, despite all your eccentricities, all your faults. Maybe loving you, in part, because of them.

Any child placed in her womb would have withered from the poison in her blood. If by some miracle she carried a babe to term, then it would have been born a monster and grown into a beast the likes of which I cannot begin to imagine. I would never give my blessing to such an ill-suited mother. I do not regret my choice, and I never shall.”

“Course it will be all right,” he said, a touch of color blooming on his cheeks. “We’ll make it so. For you, Your Luminance.”

“For there is not a soul alive—even among the gods—who does not enjoy a good story.”

You want me to have hope? This is my hope. You and me, Serilda. Someday. Away from these haunted castles. In some village, dancing in the sunshine, telling stories in the public house. Maybe it’s impossible, but … it might be all I have left.”

When you know what it is to have nothing, you can never take anything for granted.

“I want us to understand each other. I understand why you lied to me. Just as I understand you are more than your lies.”

You are more than your lies. The Erlking tipped his chair toward hers. “In the same way that you are not your god-gift … In the same way that you are not your mother or your father … We are not the vices that created us.”

Anything with honey, anything with treacle, anything that would leave them both with upset stomachs, because that was better than upset hearts.

I’ve often found, when all is forgotten by history, a good story can still live on. A good story can live forever.”

Her mother, overflowing with a love so powerful it nearly drove her to her knees. Her mother, who would do anything for her, anything.

“That child is worth more than all the castles and all the treasures and all the gold in the world.” He held out his arms. “Give her to me.”

I leave you with one final truth … or one final lie … and you shall decide which is which. That family? That town? Those monsters and gods? They all lived happily to the end of their days.