Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

Death is what happens when you stand still,” I said. “Don’t stand still. Not for anything.

Strange, how being so exposed can make a soul feel so very safe.

You're lucky," he said, "that I have a soft spot for caged birds.

I understood it so painfully well. The desire to believe that something larger than you could save you, even after it struck you down again and again.

You’re just his type, actually.” “His type?” Erekkus leaned forward and gave me a conspiratorial smirk. He held out a finger with each word. “Beautiful. Mysterious. Dangerous. And an obvious, clear-as-the-fucking-moon mistake.

Humans may believe that vampires don't understand what powerlessness feels like. And for many, maybe that's true. But those that follow me do. We understand loss. And we know that it is the worst kind of powerlessness.

I cannot kill you because I know you, Vivi. I know every moment you lied to me, because I know every moment you told the truth. I know your truth. I can’t ignore it. Even though it would be far easier if I could.

You’re right-handed.” “I’m just as good with both hands.” Arrogant man.

It’s impossible not to notice everything, with you.

A woman alone in this world sometimes needs to perform to make men take her seriously.

Because you make me ravenous.

Hm,” he said. “To think I let such a dangerous creature sleep beside me every night.

There is power in suffering,” she said. “There is power in having something to fight against. We taught you that. And you know it better than most.

You will never be free, Sylina, until you let go of the hold your past has on you,” she said. “The past cannot dictate the future.

You shouldn’t be here.” “Why?” “Because you make me ravenous.

I felt so alone then. Now, as an adult, I knew that the reason why people were distant was not because they didn’t feel our loss, but because they felt it too much. They had no room for more. I thought perhaps one day, I’d stop feeling it, too.

Loss still hit her deep. But then, I supposed it hit us all deep. We just learned how to cover the wounds with other things. Stitch it up with the threads of our next task.

I hated them all so much, and I loved that I felt that way.

I thought of the fucking Pythora King. And I thought, Yes. Kill them all. And I did not think of the Arachessen, or the Sightmother, or the blessed dagger—or Acaeja at all.

Ascension, not death. Never death. Arachessen didn’t believe in death, only change. Just as the loss of our eyes didn’t mean the loss of sight, the loss of a heartbeat didn’t mean the loss of life.

What use were his thoughts when I saw his heart?

I was grateful for his honesty. For his imperfect effort. No one who had survived the lives we had could deny the value of that. Most never try at all.

I didn’t need to see his thoughts. What use were his thoughts when I saw his heart?

He pulled me closer and said against my hair, “You like the room then.” I chuckled. “I do.” “Good,” he murmured. “Because even though there’s no longer a curse, I can’t seem to sleep without you.

You shouldn’t be here.” This time he spoke against my mouth—not quite a kiss, but the promise of one. I whispered, “Why?” “Because you make me ravenous.

I prefer to meet death standing up.

Your past has instilled in you a strong sense of justice. This makes you a powerful warrior, strong in your conviction. But it also means that you struggle with the reality that there is no good or evil in this world, just as there is no good or evil in us. Only what is Right by the fates.

Atrius stared at me, brows low over his silver-and-gold eyes. Then his fingertip rose and flicked the edge of the veil, making the silken fabric ripple. And he mouthed, I hate this thing.

It matters,” he murmured.

Surely I was hallucinating, to think that Atrius’s presence, forever unbreakable, forever solid, forever silent, was now screaming—screaming in utter terror. Over me. Ridiculous.