Cassidy Daugherty

“You will keep other people out of it!” she screamed, so loudly that the birds stopped chattering. She thrashed against him, gripping his wrists. “No one else!”
“Tell me why, Aelin.”
That gods-damned name . . . She dug her nails into his wrists. “Because I am sick of it!” She was gulping down air, each breath shuddering as the horrific realization she'd been holding at bay since Nehemia's death came loose. “I told her I would not help, so she orchestrated her own death. Because she thought . . .” She laughed—a horrible, wild sound. “She thought that her death would spur me into action. She thought I could somehow do more than her—that she was worth more dead. And she lied—about everything. She lied to me because I was a coward, and I hate her for it. I hate her for leaving me.
Rowan still pinned her, his warm blood dripping onto her face.
She had said it. Said the words she'd been choking on for weeks and weeks. The rage seeped from her like a wave pulling away from shore, and she let go of his wrists.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire