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She had read them all so many times that the logic of his world was layered over hers, like glossy tracing paper on top of the original.
She was tired, tired of trying so hard for something she didn’t even want.
Right now the possibility of Hiraeth Manor, the dream, belonged to her and her alone.
There was an intimacy to all violence, she supposed. The better you knew someone, the more terribly you could hurt them.
We must discuss, then, the relationship between women and water. When men fall into the sea, they drown. When women meet the water, they transform. It becomes vital to ask: is this a metamorphosis, or a homecoming?
“And anyway, you don’t have to love something in order to devote yourself to it.”
It had started to drizzle again, and the water caught in his hair like tiny bright beads of morning dew.
The car wound up the hillside, cigarette smoke curling in the quiet air, the sea thrumming its ceaseless rhythm against the rocks. Perhaps it was the cigarette, perhaps the oddly comforting smell of Preston’s car, but Effy felt a sort of numbing calm come over her.
Fear could make a believer of anybody.
She drew a breath and resisted rolling her eyes, but the utter predictability of his reaction was oddly comforting.
“I will love you to ruination,” the Fairy King said, brushing a strand of golden hair from my cheek. “Yours or mine?” I asked. The Fairy King did not answer.
There’s no magic in it at all. Or at least there isn’t anymore, because I’ve stopped believing in it. Now it’s just another lie.”
“And it still took far too long. I’m sorry. Now it feels obvious, like I should have known.”
Guess who knew and successfully guessed the reveal?? ME
