Sarah J. Maas

a promise was law; a promise was currency; a promise was your bond

“Love won’t feed a hungry belly,”

“Take my body home to Terrasen, Sam,” she whispered.

“But why? Why can’t you let it go?”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Because I love you!”

Her mouth fell open.

“I love you,” he repeated, shaking her again. “I have for years. And he hurt you and made me watch because he’s always known how I felt, too. But if I asked you to pick, you’d choose Arobynn, and I. Can’t. Take. It.”

You’re a damned idiot,” she breathed, grabbing the front of his tunic. “You’re a moron and an ass and a damned idiot.” He looked like she had hit him. But she went on, and grasped both sides of his face, “Because I’d pick you.”

And then she kissed him

He brushed his lips against hers. “I love you,” he breathed against her mouth. “And from today onward, I want to never be separated from you. Wherever you go, I go. Even if that means going to hell itself, wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Forever.”

She preferred the silence. In the silence she couldn’t hear the worst question of all: had she brought this upon herself?

And then she would remember how it had felt to be loved, when the world had held nothing but possibility.

Rhysand knew exactly how I looked—he’d recognized me that day at the manor.

shattering the silence like a shooting star