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Cocktails and Books
Written on Nov 3, 2015
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If you’re a monster, I’m a monster.
She was a whirling cloud of death, a queen of shadows, and these men were already carrion.
She was fire, and light, and ash, and embers. She was Aelin Fireheart, and she bowed for no one and nothing, save the crown that was hers by blood and survival and triumph.
You make me want to live, Rowan. Not survive; not exist. Live.
“It’s Aelin now,” she snapped as loudly as she dared. “Celaena Sardothien doesn’t exist anymore.”
There were two men in this city responsible for destroying her life and the people she’d loved. She would not leave Rifthold until she’d buried them both.
I spent centuries wandering the world, from empires to kingdoms to wastelands, never settling, never stopping—not for one moment. I was always looking toward the horizon, always wondering what waited across the next ocean, over the next mountain. But I think … I think that whole time, all those centuries, I was just looking for you.
But she was her own champion now.
Elegant, feminine, and utterly wild. Warm, and steadfast—unbreakable, his queen.
She moved like a midnight storm. Whatever training she’d had in Wendlyn, whatever that prince had taught her … Gods help them all.