The Six Deaths of the Saint (Into Shadow, #3)

by Alix E. Harrow

But in the end, there was no saint, just a lonely girl telling secrets to herself in a dark mirror.

You could not decide if they were prophecies or memories, or whether there was any difference between the two.

You wondered if perhaps she did not want to be the Saint of War any longer, and you sympathized; you often didn’t want to be what you were.

That I have lived and killed and lived again in the name of a man who does not deserve it because I wanted so badly to be beloved. But only one person in all my lives has ever loved me, and he does not wear a crown.

I know him, and in knowing him I love him, and in loving him I cannot do as he wishes.