Bloodmarked

But grief isn’t a competition. It’s not an identical pain that we all meet one day when death finds us. It’s a monster, personalized by our love and memories to devour us just so. Grief is suffering, tailored.

What truly ties us together is not blood but pain. When we love someone and lose them, that loss imprints itself on everyone else we love too.

I feel Sel’s gaze on the back of my neck, on my cheek, before I hear his voice. “Mae hi’n brydferth.” “What?” I ask. Nick turns when I do, just as confused. Arthur’s memories don’t recognize modern Welsh, and I only know a little. I do recognize the words for “she” and “beautiful” though. Or maybe Nick isn’t just as confused as me, because a slow, laughing smile spreads across his face, like he understands Sel’s game already. He leans a hip against the wall to watch me beside his Kingsmage, eyes teasing. “Ydi, mae hi. Yn dragwyddol.” Maybe that last word was “forever.” “Beautiful forever”? No, “always”? I flush, then pout. “Because of Arthur, I’m only fluent in Old Welsh, not modern. You know this isn’t fair.” “We know,” they respond together, and laugh.

When white people say something's 'not about race,' it's usually because it is and they don't wanna talk about it.

Wishes are the dangerous mind games we play with ourselves. The only way to win is not to play.

We ran for many reasons. We ran to protect ourselves. We ran so we would not die, so that our daughters could live.

Sel looks between us both. “I cannot believe I am stuck with you two.” The tension lifts, and I smile. “You are, you know. Stuck with us.” Nick makes a sound of disagreement. “Nah. I think you’re stuck with us, Bree.

Just know, Briana Matthews," he says, "that you are worth this and more.

Since when has a man's title prevented his brutality instead of further emboldening it?

Power is one thing; control is another.

No other Merlin can protect you like I can because no other Merlin feels about you the way I do. I want you to live because I want you to be happy. Not because of a spell, but because so very many things would break and go dark if you weren't in the world. Myself included.

The unsaid thing about funerals is that directly after the communal mourning for someone you love, after everyone is gone and the connected grief dispersed, comes a solitude beyond imagining. A great, gaping nothing where a whole person and life and future used to be. The other side of a funeral is abyss.

But that’s the thing. The Legendborn legacy isn’t power; it’s violence.

You excel at so very many things, punishing yourself is a great example.

Just because my hair takes up space doesn't mean it's dirty.

If he has to protect you, he won't protect himself.

And... you're also the most wondrous being I have ever encountered, will ever encounter. And I believe there is nothing in this world that you cannot do.

We had faith,” he says quietly. “That you’d know how to get us all out safely.” “And if I didn’t?” We look at each other for a long moment, then to Sel, and back to each other. When he finally speaks, Nick’s voice is warm enough to wrap the three of us together, a bond of its own. “Then the world would be broken in more ways than one.

Lancelot grasps my face in both palms and holds it tight. “Come back, Bree. Come back to us.” My root has left me. The only thing of my own here, the only thing that kept me safe in this hellscape. “No…” I shake my head. “Please.” Merlin’s voice is nearly unrecognizable. “Come back to us.

The two meet eyes over me. Something about that shared glance, the worry there, the care… makes the dream feel too good to leave. Makes me want to stay there between them, even if it’s all a lie in the end.

Cariad’ can mean ‘sweetheart,’ ” I whisper. He nods, and leans down to graze his lips across my cheek. “Yes.” “ ‘Darling.’ ” His eyes on my face as he moves to my other cheek. Kisses it lightly. “Yes.” “ ‘Beloved.’ ” His lips are warm against my forehead. “Yes.” “Also… it means ‘love.’

You said they ran so I wouldn't have to," I say. "But I think they ran so I could choose one day. And today, I choose me.

It is rage, expanding so fast and so hot that it fuels itself beneath your skin. Grief so deep you are only an open wound, only pain. Pain so fresh that the world itself feels like it should be burning.

No!” Lancelot’s helmet is gone now. I can see the scruff on his chin now, the dark blond hair matted in sweat against his forehead. “I can’t lose you; I won’t lose her….” “You’ll lose us both if you don’t let me try,” Merlin says.

Hugging my mother in death feels like my magic in life.

kept it from turning into one of those ‘plantation venues’ white people book for weddings.” She wrinkles her nose in derision. “Getting married, right where we were butchered and assaulted, raped, whipped, and starved, families torn apart. Taking family photos on top of centuries of blood and death. Shit is fucking gross.

But you pulled the blade when you did and how you did because you put yourself in the right place to do so. Not your mother, not your grandmother, but you. You brought honor to your Line, and I don’t mean Arthur’s. You don’t need the sword, Bree. You are the sword. Their sword. Our sword.

Dwi yn,” he murmurs, then translates. “I do trust you.” It gives me the push to answer Sel for myself, because he is many things, but he is also my friend. And right now, in this world that is just for us, our own sort of protective dome in time, away from danger, he needs to hear it from both of us. “I do, too.” Their heads turn to me. Nick’s gaze goes soft and fond. Sel flushes, but doesn’t say a word. And that’s okay

Since we’ve all gathered in the same room—and he’s collected every knife and weapon-like item from the kitchen into his lap—he’s been less on edge. Leave it to Selwyn Kane to be comforted by a pile of sharp objects.

Sel glares at her. "Don't try to be clever." She laughs. "I don't need to try, fang boy.