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477 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 6, 2025
“It will be an honor to fight at your side.”
[Landers] sees me, truly sees me; beyond any facade or superficial layer.” A loving sigh escaped her lips before she turned back to us. “I think, even if I had no beauty to offer him, he would still look at me the way he does now.”
“You could have killed him, Landers!” I protested. “You threatened to kill him!” “And I meant it,” Landers snarled, his eyes glinting dangerously. “If he so much as breathes in your direction again without your permission, I will not hesitate to make good on that promise.”
I did not take your pain because you were incapable of bearing it.” He studied my eyes as warmth flowed back into his. “I shouldered your pain, not as a testament to your weakness, but because my own strength crumbled in the face of your suffering. I could not stand idle while I listened to screams of agony come from another woman I care for. It was not my place to take that from you, yet I would do it again, for a thousand more hours, if that meant you did not have to suffer even a second longer.”
“Well”—[Landers] pushed off the wall—“ would you like me to kill [Taft]?” I blinked at him, but his expression remained stoic, his eyes cold and unamused as I realized he meant it. “You can’t be serious,” I said, sniffing away the remaining tears. “Death would be a suitable consequence for the abuse he inflicted on you. No?” He raised a brow, and I scoffed at him.
“You are so fucking beautiful and brilliant in the way you exist . . . in the way you battle through life with unmatched elegance and graceful violence. Your love, it is your most valuable asset, despite it being abused, overlooked, and taken for granted by a coward.”
I want the shell of you. I want the broken, scattered shards. I want the tears, the nightmares, the pain. I want you. All of you. The fear, and every fragmented piece of your blackened soul; I want those parts too.”
“You are mine,” he said the words, not with possession, but in devotion. “You do not belong to me, but I . . . I belong to you.”
“I will follow you anywhere,” he whispered, his breath rustling my curls. And though he had said the words only hours before, they fell on my heart differently this time; resonating in a place of hope I did not know still existed in me. “To death?” I asked. “To death.”
“You told me that I matter. It was the first time anyone had ever said those words to me, yet somehow—you knew I needed to hear them. You told me that I matter, Ardan. And every single second since that moment, you have shown me that I do.”
“The woman before you now, she is a force to be reckoned with. She stands tall, unflinching, and unafraid of your violence. No longer will I cower from your fists or back down in fear. Instead, I will meet your fists with my own; each blow as fierce and unforgiving as the last. And when I’m done, I’ll dance on your beaten and bloodied body.”
“You once told me I would be the death of you, and I intend to grant that wish.”
“The Stories will remember this day,” he said with unrelenting clarity. “The day a queen was born. The day a God returned to the realms. The day the first words in The Book of Cin were written.”