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But his soul carried on, buried deep in Elspeth Spindle, the only woman Ravyn had ever loved.
“Balance,” she answered, head tilting like a bird of prey. “To right terrible wrongs. To free Blunder from the Rowans.” Her yellow eyes narrowed, wicked and absolute. “To collect his due.”
“There once was a girl,” he said, his voice slick, “clever and good, who tarried in shadow in the depths of the wood. There also was a King—a shepherd by his crook, who reigned over magic and wrote the old book. The two were together, so the two were the same: “The girl, the King, and the monster they became.”
“Your brother seemed to understand, better than I’d realized, that he was cruel, and that I, his future wife, carried my heart upon my sleeve. He decided, without hesitation, that I should be the one to change and not him.
“She’ll live. All I did was pay her back for breaking your nose.” “I didn’t ask you to do that.” “No. But Elspeth did.”
“None of this might have happened without you, Elspeth,” Ione whispered. “And isn’t that such a beautiful thing.”
It was as if all of our lives, drawn in long, separate lines, had curved together. Curved so much that all of us had become interlocking circles. As if we had been destined together. Shepherded together.
