Gods & Monsters

Hope isn’t the sickness. It’s the cure.

Fear was inevitable. We all made our choices, and we all suffered our consequences. We all felt fear. The trick was learning to live with that fear, to continue forward in spite of it.

Do not mistake me for porcelain. Do not mistake me for weak.

There is no rose without a thorn.

There is no solution for grief. Only time.

You should both show your scars […] They mean you survived.

Deep down, I’d known how this would end all along. I’d sensed it from the moment we’d first met, from the time I’d first glimpsed the Balisarda in his bandolier—two star-crossed lovers brought together by fate or providence. By life and by death. By gods, or perhaps monsters. We would end with a stake and a match.

I turned to face Reid, startled to find him directly behind me. His eyes fixed on mine with a deep, unsettling intensity that hadn’t been there before. “Truth or dare.” Butterflies erupted in my belly as he stepped closer still. Heat washed across every inch of my skin. “Truth.” He shook his head slowly. I swallowed hard. “Dare.” “Kiss me.

Please, don’t cry. I can’t stand your tears. They make me—they make me want to rend the world apart to stop them, and I can’t—

I think every plan we’ve ever coordinated has been complete and utter shit and ended in total disaster.

I stared at her tearstained face, chest aching. She didn’t need to convince me. I’d do anything she asked. If kissing her would stop another tear from falling, I’d kiss her a thousand times. If we survived the night, I’d kiss away every tear for the rest of her life.

Make up your mind. You can’t string me along forever, blowing hot one minute and cold the next. Do you want to love me, or do you want to kill me?

I loved Lou. I knew that. Felt it in my bones. I also couldn’t stand the sight of her. What was wrong with me?

You gave me life,” I continued, stronger now, the words spilling faster than I’d intended. Cathartic. “Of course I loved you. Why do you think I allowed them to chain me to an altar? At sixteen years old, I was willing to die for you. My mother.

You probably think I’m a prude.’ ‘So? You shouldn’t care what we think, Célie- or anyone else, for that matter. Don’t forfeit your power like that.’ ‘Because who cares if you’re a prude? Who cares if we’re whores? They’re just words.’ ‘And we can’t get it right no matter what we do. We might as well do it our own way. Being a prude or being a whore are both better than being what they want us to be.’ ‘What do they want us to be?’ ‘Theirs.’ ‘Be prudish and proud, Célie. We’ll be whorish and happy.

Frankly, his silence is insulting. He could at least send a bird to shit on our heads or something.

It doesn't end in death. It ends in hope.

Who the hell cares?” Beau hovered anxiously by the stairs, keeping watch. “It’s an enchanted lock for an enchanted door in an enchanted fucking castle. None of this makes sense. Just hurry up, will you? I think I heard something.

Lou might not have been the only player on the board, but she was certainly the most critical. Only a fool wouldn’t recognize that.

You haven’t?” Beau arched a brow in disbelief. “She’s your wife—or lady friend, paramour, whatever label you’ve settled on. Something is clearly wrong with her, brother.

None know what the water will show them. Desires, fears, strengths, weaknesses, memories—it sees truth and demands truth in turn. All you must do is acknowledge it.

Only you can decide what your happiness looks like.

Deep down, I'd known how this would end all along. I'd sensed it from the moment we'd first met, from the time I'd first glimpsed the Balisarda in his bandolier- two star-crossed lover brought together by fate or providence. By life and by death. By gods, or perhaps monsters. We would end with a stake and match.

What about what I wanted, maman? You and tante—all either of you have ever cared about is this stupid feud. I’m the collateral damage, aren’t I? I’m the one who suffers.

Fear has helped me survive," I snapped. "Fear has kept you from living.

No scar is shameful.

Ours isn’t a grand, sweeping romance. We aren’t star-crossed lovers. We were a casual hookup, and that’s all.

And we won’t. We will return to Chateau le Blanc for Toulouse. For the wolves. Then we will raze that wretched castle to the ground with Morgane le Blanc and her Dames Blanches inside. This I promise you.

The darkness is unyielding as stone.