── hünnap .✦
@jimtale
pes edeyim deme—
yolun daha var
Şu anda okuduğu kitaplar
emory diye agliyorum.
Crooked smile slid over the boy’s mouth. He lunged for the bed—landing on Ravyn so hard it tossed the wind from his lungs. He groaned, mussing his brother’s dark hair. “You’re better.”
“I am. Three taps of that new Card, and look”—Emory reached out, pressing his bare palm against Ravyn’s cheek—“I can touch people. No visions. No magic. Blissful nothingness. Fit as a fucking fiddle.”
Jespyr feigned a gasp. “Emory. You can’t talk that way in front of the King.”
Emory jumped from Ravyn’s bed. Curtsied with an invisible skirt and bowed before Elm. “Apologies, Your Holiness.”
“It’s Highness, you little—”
The Nightmare’s gaze collided with Ravyn’s. “Elspeth says she’s utterly sick of you.”
His voice was weak. “She didn’t say that.”
“No. She didn’t.” The words slipped out of the Nightmare’s mouth on a fine thread. “Time to be strong, Ravyn Yew. Your ten minutes are up.”
And I understood, better than I ever had, how he had become a monster.
His life had been a never-ending barter. He had given his time, his focus, his love, for magic. He’d wielded it with great authority. But it was magic that had taken his kingdom, his family, his body, his soul.
It was balance, but it was not fair. And now he was full of agony, whittled down to something jagged—a tooth, a claw.
“Nightmare,” he said through his teeth.
The monster laughed as he slipped out of the fort. “She’ll live. All I did was pay her back for breaking your nose.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“No. But Elspeth did.”