The Stolen Throne

Desperation is the road to depravity.

I miss the stupidest things anyway. Like how you deal with my sarcasm. Or the way you light up when you smile. But mostly, I just want to hold your hand and tell you things.

Breathing hard, I twist in his arms to stare at the woods that consumed the man who was the brightest part of my past and the man who is my everything. Even if he doesn't want to be. Goddess save him. Reven is my everything, and I never told him that.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that if I don’t reach out for the good life blesses me with, just because I fear the bad or the loss, then I’ll only end up with a pile of bad in the end.

I know we’re not certain, but not trying is worse than not knowing at all.

You have to keep fighting until it’s over. That’s your fate. And I will burn down the world if I have to, just to keep you safe while you do it. That’s mine.

That’s my girl,” someone else in the room says in a satisfied murmur, the words hardly penetrating through my shock.

I will do anything, kill anyone, sacrifice everyone—including myself—to get to her. To keep her safe. Because she is mine.

You have to know your enemy before you can defeat your enemy.

You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.

When it comes to this, to us, it's not up for debate by committee. It's not for my friends or family to weigh in on. It's mine. He's mine.

I could cut the tension with a dull knife," Pella says. "Just sleep together already and get it out of your system.

Are you deceased?" "No," I groan. "That is good.