We Free the Stars

If you hurt her—” “If I hurt her, I will bring every weapon at my disposal and lay them at your feet for you to do to me what you will. If I hurt her, I will no sooner carve out my own heart than dare draw breath again.” She was silent. “Do you understand?” he prompted. “You love her.” No, he did not love her. The word for what he felt for Zafira bint Iskandar did not yet exist.

Habibi. Hayati. Roohi. My love, my life, my soul, the words meant, but their meanings went deeper than that. Habibi was for friends and love that was real enough. Hayati was when love became an all-encompassing thing. Deeper and deeper, until one became the others life. Roohi was when a soul twined with its match and loved with the force of a thousand suns. When it slipped beneath the heart and tangled in the very fibres of an existence.

They say the soul cannot rest until it finds its match. Then it ignites.

You'll have me. No matter how thick the night, I will always be there to light your way.

I am falling in love with you, and I don’t know how to stop.

You’re like a room full of books. Every time I see you, I discover something new.

Darkness doesn’t need to be destroyed. We need the dark as much as we need light. It makes us bold, as much as it makes us afraid.” She smiled. “Darkness needs only to be tamed.

He knew of a person who would take her to the ends of the world, if only she would ask. He would take the stars from the sky and fashion them into a crown, if only she would have it.

Men are like fish,” Kifah said, the break in her voice giving away her unease. “Shiny, and of little brain?” Zafira replied.

Emotions don’t define us. It’s what you do with them that’s important.

Tears aren’t a measure of heart. We grieve in different ways.

Tame me," he said in desperation. "Be mine, wholly and utterly.

Knowing you can lose something is what makes it more precious.

An empty life is a fate worse than death.

How long did one have to live before death became a wish?

He left behind half of his soul and the whole of his heart.

Habibi was for friends and love that was real enough. Hayati was when love became an all-encompassing thing. Deeper and deeper, until one became the other’s life. Roohi was when a soul twined with its match and loved with the force of a thousand suns. When it slipped beneath the heart and tangled in the very fibers of an existence.

Do you understand, brother? You’ll have me. No matter how thick the night, I will always be there to light your way.

We were not born to fight, but our cradles were built from struggles and hardship. Pens, swords, sticks—weapons shoved into our fists as soon as we’re old enough to grasp them. So we fight because the world will cut our throats otherwise. We fight, because we won’t go down without one.

Should I sing prettily while I slit your throat?

Only a fool wouldn’t love her. After all that she’s endured and all that she’s lost, she still fights for a world that failed her.

Prince of Death, Demenhune Hunter. Titles don’t tell you who a person is.

I did everything. Everything I could possibly do," Zafira gasped out. "Why? Why wasn't it enough?" Lana pulled her to her chest, and somehow, the tears fell faster, harder. She was supposed to be the stronger one. The one to hold them together. "The world has no right sitting on your shoulders, yet you've given it more than you will ever owe," Lana whispered. "You've done for it what a sultan would require a throne, a crown, and a thousand men to accomplish.

Remain in the shadows and serve the light.

They suffered alone. Quiet and brave. It was easy to believe that anyone who did not speak of suffering did not suffer.

If I hurt her, I will bring every weapon at my disposal and lay them at your feet for you to do to me what you will. If I hurt her, I will no sooner carve out my own heart then dare draw breath again.

Hope, he had learned, arrived swiftly, seeking to bloom in the darkest of places and in the most harrowing of times.

My girl will wield weapons, and she will wield them well, for it takes a special kind of courage to hold power and know when not to use it.

Wars could wage and swords could cut and arrows could pierce. None of them compared to the pain of a well-poised word.