The Songbird & the Heart of Stone

“I imagine,” Asar said, “that it feels the way music sounds. Like joy for the sake of it. Maybe it feels like hope.”

“I don’t want to be something you regret”

I had been hurting for so long that I had forgotten what it was like for something to feel good.

“I don’t comment on décolletage unless invited,” he said coolly. “Men today!”

“We all have our regrets. Don’t follow yours to the grave.”

there was nothing more dangerous than a sin that felt right. Nothing.

She talked to him often, and sometimes, he tried to say a few words to her, but she didn’t understand his language. It didn’t matter, though—words, she’d learned, were only one small part of a connection.

“We all have ghosts in our pasts, Iliae. We can’t give them the power to define our futures, too.”

At least I got to rest. But resting just meant being alone with the nightmares, which were painfully vivid

She looked at him like he was a question answered. He looked at her like she was the only one worth asking.