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388 pages, Hardcover
First published December 9, 2014
"Bravery isn’t the absence of fear, but the willingness to stay the course in spite of it."

"Because they are strong enough to know the truth, and proving that to themselves will make them stronger." Ror sits up straighter in the saddle. "And perhaps, if men were brought up to be gentler people, women wouldn't have need of protectors. Have you ever thought of that?"
I shake my head. "Men aren't going to change, Ror. Men are what they are."
"And women are more than what you allow them to be. Women can be strong, Niklaas. If given the chance, they can handle the world, maybe even handle it better than a man. "
This story follows the tragic tale of Aurora and her brother Jor. Their mother killing herself to save both Aurora and Jor, leaving Aurora "fey-blessed" with gifts that could eventually turn into curses.
"Why should any woman learn how wretched this world can be if they don’t have to?”
“Because they are strong enough to know the truth, and proving that to themselves will make them stronger.” Ror sits up straighter in his saddle. “And perhaps, if men were brought up to be gentler people, women wouldn’t have need of protectors. Have you ever thought of that?”
Niklaas shakes his head. “Men aren’t going to change, Ror. Men are what they are.”
“And women are more than you allow them to be. Women can be strong, Niklaas. If given the chance, they can handle the world, maybe even handle it better than a man.”
[...] I want to tell him what it’s like for a girl to grow up with no one telling her she can’t be strong or wise or fierce.
“This world preys on the weak,” I interrupt, tired of Ror’s preaching when he’s far too young to sit at the front of the chapel, let alone occupy the altar.
I ruffle her hair the way I did when she was Ror and it feels good. Normal. The way things are supposed to be between Aurora and me.
I force a smile, pretending not to be bothered by the realization that it isn’t only Aurora’s time spent pretending to be a boy that makes it hard to know how to behave with her. It’s the fact that she doesn’t fit into the usual baskets. She’s not a family member, and she’s not a girl I’d have an easy tumble with. She’s a little of both, as well as a friend of the kind I thought I could only find in another man. I never dreamt I could have fun sparring with a girl, or making rude jokes, or traveling across country with nothing but two horses and a single bedroll.
That unexpected longing rises inside of me again, but this time it isn’t simply a longing to touch her, or at least not the way I’ve known it before. It’s a warmer feeling, desire wrapped up in furs to keep it safe from the cold, lust softened like a wine aged for years in gentle darkness. It’s not something I’ve felt before—the need to possess and to treasure so tangled together. It’s uncomfortable, foreign, but also … Right. And maybe I don’t have to fight it.
I try to remind myself that Niklaas would never be interested in a girl like me—a girl so plain she has no trouble passing as a boy, a girl who speaks her mind and fights for what she wants and doesn’t need anyone, male or female, to protect her—but the arguments don’t feel as convincing as they once did. Niklaas likes Ror. He could come to like Aurora, to care about her and laugh with her. And isn’t caring and friendship what makes a marriage work, what makes you wake up years in the future and smile to see your friend’s graying head on the pillow next to yours?
I reach a hand down to help her up. She ignores it, vaulting to her feet with a shove of her arms and a jackknife motion of her body that is impressive. Unnecessary but impressive.
“Maybe you should think about changing a few things, too,” I continue.
“Like what?” The look of surprise on her face makes it clear she considers herself above reproach.
“Like accepting help a bit more graciously,” I say, waving the hand she ignored in her face. “You don’t have to take on the world all alone.”
The way I felt changed when he changed, making it clear it wasn’t Niklaas’s godlike outsides that made me want to be close to him. It was who he was. It was his mind and his heart and his wicked smiles and his maddening advice and the way he’d tease me from laughter into fury and back to laughter within the course of a conversation. It was just … Niklaas.
And then I hear her sigh and turn my head to find Aurora propped on one arm, watching me wake up, and it all comes rushing back—the breathless ride back to the castle, the wedding in the garden with the last of the autumn roses tucked into Aurora’s hair, going to bed with my best friend and learning I’ve been doing it all wrong, and needed to be deflowered, after all.
Last night was what love is supposed to feel like, terrifying and beautiful and so close you’re afraid you’ll lose a piece of yourself, but you don’t. You gain a piece of the person you love instead, a piece that makes you stronger and happier than you could have imagined possible.
“Well … maybe together we’ll prove that prophecies, and curses, and kings and queens with nothing but evil in their souls aren’t as powerful as people helping each other. People tying their hearts and minds together and telling fate to go stuff itself.”



"I know heroes," she says a little sadly. "Heroes are all the same."