'I understand you only too well...' I said. 'That passivity in me has been the core of it all, the real evil. That weakness, that refusal to compromise a fractured and stupid morality, that awful pride! For that, I let myself become the thing I am, when I knew it was wrong.'
Where is his wife?
“Where is Aelin.”
There was pure panic, too—pure panic as Whitethorn saw the blood, the
scattered blades, and the shirt.
“Where is Aelin.”
What had he done, what had he done—
Pain sliced Lorcan’s neck, warm blood dribbled down his throat, his
chest.
Rowan hissed, “Where is my wife?”
Lorcan swayed where he knelt.
Wife.
Wife.
“Oh, gods,” Elide sobbed as she overheard, the words carrying the
sound of Lorcan’s own fractured heart. “Oh, gods …”
And for the first time in centuries, Lorcan wept.
Rowan dug the dagger deeper into Lorcan’s neck, even as tears slid
down Lorcan’s face.
What that woman had done …
Aelin had known. That Lorcan had betrayed her and summoned Maeve
here. That she had been living on borrowed time.
And she had married Whitethorn … so Terrasen could have a king.
Perhaps had been spurred into action because she knew Lorcan had already
betrayed her, that Maeve was coming …
And Lorcan had not helped her.
Whitethorn’s wife.
His mate.
Aelin had let them whip and chain her, had gone willingly with Maeve,
so Elide didn’t enter Cairn’s clutches. And it had been just as much a
sacrifice for Elide as it had been a gift to him.
She had bowed to Maeve.
For Elide.
Hangi tür kitapları seviyorsun?
🔎 Polisiye
💕 Romantik
🚀 Bilim Kurgu
🏰 Fantastik
📖 Klasik
🧠 Kişisel Gelişim
🏛️ Tarih
😱 Gerilim
Seeing these girls and experiencing this with them has taught me that psychological and emotional pain is more damaging than physical. Bruises disappear, scars fade, and for the most part, bodies will heal.
But your mind, your mind once fractured will change who you are for good. You become a shell of your former self—become someone else.
“We cracked up,” I say, but the phrase feels wrong. It was not so simple, or so clean, as a piece of fractured glass. “But we didn’t really shatter until we were all back together again.”
She is His everything
“You are already dead,” I pant out with dark menace. With vicious
promise. “The second you touched her. The second you hurt Auren and my
mother, you were done.”
“No, son. You are.” He rolls up one of his sleeves and drags the
dagger down his own arm, opening a vein.
“Culls cull the weak,” he goes on. “I will be king of the skies. I will
be king of Annwyn.”
He crouches down in front of me then, his dark eye boring into mine
as my mind spins. “I will take your dragon the same way our ancestors did
when they knew another Cull didn’t deserve the manifestation. And by
doing so, I will finally divest you of your greatest weakness. Your heart.”
I try to surge up, to launch myself at him, but I can’t.
My dragon is dying, unable to even roar anymore. My mother
bleeding, Auren threatened.
And I’m trapped. Fucking trapped.
His soldiers wait around my tortured dragon, while my father
watches the blood seep from his arm before deigning to look back at me.
“Pour the heartblood of the ward and its dragon into the veins of the
victor…and the victor shall manifest anew,” he intones, his expression
eager. The words sound like he’s repeated them thousands of times to
himself.
Cold realization freezes me and makes my stomach roil.
This is what he’d always planned. This is why he pushed me so hard
as a boy. He wanted me to manifest a dragon…so that he could murder me
and take it for himself.
“You’ve finally fulfilled your purpose,” he tells me with a biting
edge.
From my peripheral, I see soldiers pinning down my dragon’s feet.
See one of them positioning a sword right in front of its pulsing heart, ready
to pierce it through.
The Family
The cures left Apollo suddenly untethered. His connection to Evangeline
had been severed and he wanted it back. He didn’t want to be cursed, but he
wanted her; the wanting didn’t end just because the curses had.
If anything, he wanted her even more. Now that he didn’t feel compelled
to hurt her, to hunt her, he could finally make her his.
But he knew it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t simple at all.
For most of his life, Apollo had always been given what he wanted. As a
prince, he was not used to wishing for anything. He was used to taking and
getting. But for the first time, Apollo feared he might not get what he
wanted.
He’d tried to kill Evangeline. He’d shot and strangled her. The bruises
were probably still on her neck from where his hands had squeezed.
He hoped she’d forgive him. He’d been cursed. Unable to help it. Surely
she’d understand. But what if Evangeline never forgot what he had done?
What if, whenever he tried to kiss her, it made her flash back to when
he’d also tried to kill her?
Then there was Lord Jacks. Apollo’s former friend.
Apollo had never been in competition with another man. Who could
compete with a prince who would be king? But when Apollo had tried to kill
Evangeline, he had seen the way that she had looked at Jacks after he’d
stormed into the room to rescue her. As if Jacks was her savior, her hero.
Something had changed between them.
And Apollo didn’t know what to do about it.
Before Honora had left him, she’d lifted the bars of the cage. He’d been
free to go. But Apollo hadn’t been able to move. He had been too nervous
and afraid to leave the room.
Then Aurora had appeared in the doorway like an angel.
She wasn’t just beautiful, she was ethereal, with a sweet voice that said
all the words he wanted to hear. “Someone as handsome as you
