The Merciful Crow

I will follow until I must lead. I will shield until I must strike. I will fight until I must heal.

Fie remembered the first time she’d held Phoenix fire. She hadn’t wanted to burn the world down; she’d wanted the world to know she could.

To everyone whose mercy is demanded, and who dreams instead of teeth.

He looked at you the same way you look at roads. [...] Like where they go frightens you, and you love them for it.

Pa says change always has a price.” Fie stared at dawn’s edge in the eastern sky. “That even Phoenixes need ashes to rise.

No chief I've ever met looked down the road and wanted what they saw waiting for them.

Well, I'm not sorry for punching you." "That's probably not the last time you'll say that." His teeth flashed in a grin.

Pa’d taught her to watch the starving wolf. When beasts go hungry too long, he’d said, they forget what they ought to fear.

It wasn't that she wanted to burn the world down, no. She just wanted the world to know that she could.

I don't get to look away from the throats I have to cut. Why should you?

Your ma said you were born vexed with the world, aye. And Swain said you were born vexed enough to turn it on its head.

The most powerful people in the kingdom can’t even say the problem is real.” “They know it is,” Fie said grimly, scanning the dark for torches. “Otherwise they wouldn’t be so hell-bent on pretending it isn’t.

Fie: “Joke's on you, bastard boy: they're all short lives. Wager I've spend more nights ready to die for my kin that you've spend rolling palace girls." ... "As for how I spend my nights... you might win that wager, you know," Tavin rolled off the branch, effortless, dangling from his fingertips as he flashed that damned grin up at her. "If you're counting only the girls.

She hated him for trying to give her hope. She hated herself for hoping at all. And then, with horror and fury, she found she hated her traitor heat, for burning quiet with something that was not hate at all.

She hated Tavin for his silence, for not leaving, for driving her to spew up the sickening fire in her heart instead of letting it break her down to ash.

Fie had never expected to die quiet. Young, maybe. On the end of a sword, also likely. And doing what she did best: picking a fight over something easier left alone.

He won the next five rounds, played in silence but for the countdown. Fie didn't care. The sooner the damned game was over, the better. She'd learned her lesson for digging into ugly truths with pretty boys.

They were all short lives. She'd just wanted to spend more of hers with him. She'd just wanted more time.

Mi reina anterior, Jasindra, tenía un proverbio Halcón favorito: "Cuando actúas enfadado, ya has perdido la batalla.

Pa was taking too long to cut the boys’ throats.

People get drunk on crowns," she warned. "They think they can do as they please because they know we'll catch twelve hells if we hit back. But by every dead god, one day I will. And so will you." "Let's make them pay," Jasimir whispered. "Let's burn them down," she answered. A look shuttled between them like the weft of a loom. The threads of their terribly different worlds gathered, crossed, and pulled taut.

Joke's on you, bastard boy: they're all short lives. Wager I've spend more nights ready to die for my kin that you've spend rolling palace girls. --Fie

Pa was taking too long to cut the boys' throats.