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

by Alix E. Harrow

And you understood, finally, that there had never truly been a she or a you but only a terrible, lonely I.

I have given him my blood, my youth, my love, my good right hand; who am I now to begrudge him my death?

You were a devil, a saint, a great and terrible reaping loosed upon the world. You were centuries of warfare condensed into a single body, your memories folded over themselves, beaten and quenched like fine steel in the water of the pool.

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.