Mountains Made of Glass (Fairy Tale Retelling, #1)

by Scarlett St. Clair

“Who will you sacrifice when everyone you hate is dead?”

it's giving "you can't put everyone in here"

“You could have chosen to break our brother’s curse rather than your town’s curse,” said Lore. “He would have made you his queen out of gratitude for your rescue.”

“That is the folly of your human blood, to take everything as it appears and not as it is,”

“You shall spend six years as our seventh brother’s prisoner,” said Silas.

“Perhaps you should stay there,” said the beast, and I looked up from the floor into his dark eyes. He stood guard at the door, looking far larger than he had before. “Your knees seem to like it.” “Fuck you.” “You will,” he said. “Far sooner than you think if you leave my castle.”

I started to kneel, thinking that I might be able to crawl over the edge of the pool, when the beast offered his hand, long nails like sharp blades. Tired and not wishing to injure myself further, I took it. He held my fingers and I slipped into the pool.

At least he's a gentleman

Then I felt warm fingers take over, and I stiffened as the prince fastened my dress. Once he was finished, I turned to face him. He stared down at me and spoke, giving me no time to react to his intrusion.

“A name precedes you, and without one, you are nothing.” “Then why go by a name that is not his own?” “All fae go by names that are not theirs,” he said. “True names are for lovers. True names are for death.” “Why only lovers and death?” “A true name is a gift to the lover and a token to death.”

“For now? Your smile,” he said. “But one day when you rule this castle, you will return me to the sea.”

Seven letters, I reminded myself. Your name knows no stranger. Your name is the wail on the lips of a birthing mother. Your name is the howl from the mouth of a grieving lover. It is the cry that breaks the night when death is summoned.

She was more than beautiful, more beautiful than I cared to admit.

“What power you have given me,” I said, amused. He bared his teeth. “I am voracious,” he said. “I shall feast tonight. Whether on food or on you, the choice is yours.” “I will hardly quell your appetite.” “Oh, sweet thing, I think you will.”

“You are beautiful,” he said after a long moment of silence.

“I said you look beautiful.” His brows were low, his features tense, and yet he continued to hold my gaze as he spoke. “Why do you seem so angry about it?” “I’m not,” he snapped. “I told you you were beautiful. Be grateful.” “Fuck you.” I took the goblet and tossed the contents at Casamir; the red wine dripped down his face like blood.

“Sweet creature,

“Vicious creature,” I said. “Beast,” she spat.

Her eyes widened, but she took it into her hands and licked me from base to tip. As her tongue and mouth closed over the crown, my hands returned to her hair, gathering it from her face so I could watch her taste me.

A gentleman at least

“You are a sweet creature,”

“Come when I call, sweet creature,” I said. “Or I will come for you.”

“Because you will marry the prince,” said Wolf. “And when you do, I shall be a wolf once more.”

When we were within view of the pond, I knew I was in trouble because Casamir waited at the edge of the water. He was a dark and foreboding figure, haloed in black thorns and shadow. In one hand, he held the selkie’s sealskin. In the other, he held the selkie’s severed head.

“How did you know?” I asked after I had grown tall. “You called and I came,” he said.

Neither of us spoke for a moment, and then all of a sudden, I rested my head against his chest and burst into tears.

I did not know what to do when my creature placed her head against my chest and began to cry, but her tears were like knives, tearing at my heart, feeding a desire to avenge her pain. I was not used to these feelings, mine or hers.

“I am not degrading you,” I said. I felt myself bending over her, but she was just as stubborn, rising on her toes to match my venom. “If you let me, I would worship you. Perhaps then you might know what it is to be grateful.”

“Do not cry for such a creature,” I said. “He touched what is mine.”

“What the fuck was that for?” I asked, glaring at Naeve, who stood on the bench beneath the window, hopping on one leg as she tried to take off the other shoe. “Because you are an idiot! A royal one!” she yelled.

Lolol she's so funny

Naeve froze, the candlestick she’d chosen to throw at me next poised in her hand like a spear.

“Do you imagine I understand kindness when none has been given to me?” I continued. “Do you imagine it is easy to be anything other than what I am?”

Let me hug him

“Our prince is an idiot.”

If he did not fuck me, I would die.

Gurl hahahaaha

only gave you what you truly wanted. Your deepest desire. It is not every day I find two people who want each other. Consider yourself lucky.”

“You are beautiful,” he said, and this time when he spoke, I knew he meant it.

“Choke me,” I said.

“Are you well?”

He was shirtless and the muscles in his shoulders rippled with each tiny movement. His back was scored with red lines from my fingernails. I liked that I had marked him in some way, but the fact that others would see it and know embarrassed me, though I wasn’t sure why I cared.

“What’s this for?” He shrugged and looked a little uncomfortable. “I thought…you might be hungry.”

He is so fucking cute

“And what happened?” “I fucked her in the woods all night long.”

It was strange, considering the whole castle was overgrown in flora.

Lock me in this castle plz

“Why does he keep these plants when his whole castle is a garden?” I asked. “He loves them,” said the mirror. “That is why the castle is a garden.”

My brows lowered and I crossed again to the corner where all his plants were on display. Suddenly I saw his home in a new light. I had thought there was nothing personal about it, but the whole thing…it was a reflection of what he loved.

“Everyone knows his name. It knows no stranger. It is the wail on the lips of a birthing mother, the howl from the mouth of a grieving lover. It is the cry that breaks the night when death is summoned and the scream that echoes at daybreak when truth makes you ache.”

WHY IS SIGN OF THE TIMES PLAYING RN

“Anything can be a name,”

Mourning? Mourner?

I was not prepared for her when she came into view. She had always been beautiful, but tonight she was exquisite. She wore a fitted gown, as thin as fairy wings. The colors changed as she moved, from pink to gold.

I held out my hand for her. It took her a moment to accept, and when she did, I pulled her to me. Her eyes widened, and one of her hands pressed flat against my chest but she did not push me away.

“You make me angry. You make me insane,”

“I cut them,” I said. Because they had hurt her, because I could not pleasure her with claws.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I grew. I snatched my robe off the end of my bed and slipped it on as I reached for my ax. The handle was still full of thorns, but I did not care that they pricked my hand as I ventured out of my room and made my way to Casamir’s bedroom in the dark.

Sis is still covered in wine lmfao

I wanted to hurt him, but I also wanted to fuck him.

Fantasy enemies to lovers at it's finest

I lowered the ax a little. “I want to hate you.” “I know,” he said, his voice quiet, and as he rose to me, he wrapped his hand around my wrist and his mouth collided with mine.

I'm obsessed