Realm Breaker Quotes

Boys do stupid things to feel like men, no matter how old they are.

Only men can speak all day long and still think themselves silent.

I don’t belong anywhere,” Corayne said, her voice failing. To her surprise, Sorasa cracked a smile. “There are plenty of people like that,” she said. “And nowhere is still a somewhere.

Well, if you don’t belong to a place, perhaps we belong to each other? We who belong nowhere?” Sorasa offered. Her copper eyes glimmered, dancing with the light off the river.

We don’t choose what we’re born to, Corayne,” Erida replied. She touched the crown on her brow. “We can only walk the path put in front of us.

I have nothing to ask, and the world to offer.

History gorges itself on women raised high and then brought low by men grasping for their power.

I can't imagine living for a thousand years and still being so stupid...It's almost an accomplishment.

Sorasa tried to remember the last time she’d said thank you to a living person and meant it. Years, if not decades, she realized, racking her brain. Well, no use in breaking the streak now.

This is the best way out of here. To the horizon and beyond it. To whoever I am, in my bones.

Sorrow touched us all, Lord Donacridhan, whether we believe in it or not. It doesn’t matter what you call the thing ripping you apart. It will still devour you if given the chance.

You are a realm breaker, Taristan. You would crack this world apart and build an empire from its ruins.

Today, we fight for tomorrow.

My love, you don’t know what you’re asking for.” Corayne narrowed her black eyes. “Oh, I think I do.

Maybe we belong to each other, we who belong nowhere.

Her silence was her best quality. Perhaps her only good one.

Only death would stop him. Only death would keep him from me.

His eyes met Erida’s like lightning finding the earth.

Even when it isn’t the end of the world, the realm is a dangerous place for women,

To those who seek and never find

Hammer and nail, the Companions are now seven, wind and gail, bound for hell or bound for heaven.

What you learned in a palace, I learned better in the mud. — Taristan of Old Cor

I am ruler of Galland, but I am a queen, not a king. I must be careful in what I say, and what weapons I give my enemies. I will not give anyone cause to call me weak-minded or mad.

I know you don't believe in ghosts,' Sorasa murmured, holding her ground. 'But I do,' she said. His chest filled with an unfamiliar feeling, an ache he could not name. 'Sorasa,' he began, but the crowd surged around them. 'Haunt me, Domacridhan.

The squire will march and fight and carry on until he drops. Until someone gives him permission to stand back, and be a little less strong.

I do not scowl,” Dom said, scowling.

Our paths have already been laid, our fates written by godly hands. She only hopes the ink of their lives wove together for a little while still.

Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons

She tasted blood too. The blood of Gallish soldiers, the blood of sea serpents from another realm. And, of course, her own blood. So much blood Corayne felt she might drown in it. But I am a pirate’s daughter, she thought, heart pounding. Her mother, the bronzed and beautiful Meliz an-Amarat, grinned in her mind’s eye. We do not drown.

The Heir flushed and scowled. They shifted, planting their body between Charlie and the sacred circle of bronze, as if it were a child to be protected. “I’ll not hear blasphemy.” “You may cover your ears,” Charlie answered, before Sigil clapped a hand over his mouth.

I don't belong anywhere," Corayne said, her voice failing. To her surprise, Sorasa cracked a smile. "There are plenty of people like that," she said. "And nowhere is still a somewhere." "That's foolish." "Well, if you don't belong to a place, perhaps we belong to each other? We who belong nowhere?" Sorasa offered. Her copper eyes glimmered, dancing with the light off the river. Despite the ugly feeling in the pit of her stomach, Corayne found herself smiling too. "Perhaps," she echoed.

Certainly not," Corayne said. "Are you going to call me Spindlerot the entire time or just today?" "I'm still deciding.

Discord is a better shield than steel.

It tolled in answer, as if a bell could do such a thing.

Children of crossing, children of conquest. Destined to rule every corner of the Ward, but they fell. They failed. We are their successors. And I will prove it

Men are so unsuited to power.

It is good to know your own measure.

Sorasa spat heartily, her aim true.

If Valtik is going to rhyme, you can't start talking in riddles, Sorasa," she said, exasperated. "I refuse to save the realm under these conditions.

Now there is nowhere to go, and yet I keep walking forward. Into what, I do not know. And neither does anyone else.

You know so little of kingdoms and courts, Taristan.” Erica heaved a weary sigh. If only his demon lord would gift him some common sense.

It is easy for me to claim what is already broke, and Taristan was broken long ago. But not you. Somehow, even now, I see no cracks in you." Raising her head, Corayne narrowed her eyes at the shadow. "And you never will.

She tried not to think of the men she’d killed. Their faces came anyway, haunting in her memory. “How many?” she said, her voice trailing off. Corayne didn’t expect Andry to understand the broken musings of her mind. But pain crossed his face, a pain she knew. He looked beyond her, to the bodies in green and gold. He shut his eyes and bowed his head, hiding his face from the desert sun. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I will not count.” I have never seen a heart break before, Corayne thought, watching Andry Trelland. He wore no wounds, but she knew he bled within. Once he was a squire of Galland who dreamed of becoming a knight. And now he is a killer of them, a killer of his own dreams.

Orleon trembled with rage, his face matching his burgundy surcoat. He had no skill in hiding his emotions, and Erica knew exactly why. He is a man. His emotions are not considered a burden or a weakness. Not like mine, which I must keep hidden, so men might feel a little less threatened and a little more strong. Her fingers curled until she felt her own nails dig into her palms. Part of her wanted to claw Orleon’s red face right of and give him a mask to wear all the time, as she had to.

No amount of squiring had prepared him for a girl like Corayne. Noble ladies, perhaps, shy behind their hands or scheming in their silks. But not the girl in front of him, with a sword on her back and maps in her pockets, the starless night in her eyes.

That was unkind," Sorasa said in a flat voice, without judgement. A simple statement of fact. Sigil shrugged. "No one pays me to be kind." At Corayne's shoulder, Andry leaned, closing the distance between them. "She might be harsher than Sorasa," he said out of the corner of his mouth. At the rear of their line, Dom scoffed. "I did not realize there was a competition for worst personality," he crowed. Sorasa didn't hesitate. "It's not a competition with you around, Elder." On the road, Charlie jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, his discomfort forgotten. "Do all immortals have sticks up their asses or just him?" Their joined laughter carried through the Larsian fields, rustling the tall grass. To Corayne's delight, even Dom's lips twitched, betraying a smile.

I am not brave.” Don ran a hand over his face, feeling his scars. The skin was hard and puckered. He would never be the same as he was before the temple. And history was about to repeat itself. “I am angry, saddened, frustrated—all things but brave.” “I disagree.

As in Gidastern, something came over Andry Trelland. Before he knew it, her gloved hand was at his mouth, his lips brushing over her knuckles. She did not pull away, only staring, holding his gaze. For a moment, only her eyes existed, a black sky. He wanted to fill it with blazing stars. "Hold on to afterward," he said to her hand. "Whatever your afterward is, hold on to it.

I see anger in you, Princess,” Kesar said softly, hesitant. Tentative as a traveler walking across broken ice. Ridha sighed, her chest rising and falling beneath her furs. “There is gratitude in me too,” she murmured. “So much it is almost overwhelming. To you, to Dyrian, even to the cold Lady of Kovalinn. For ignoring my mother. For refusing to leave the Ward to it’s dark fate. For all of your who refuse to surrender.” The air froze on her teeth. “I will not surrender either.

There’s still time,” Charlie breathed. He drummed his fingers on the table. Sigil looked at him sidelong, scoffing. “And how do you know that?” The priest shrugged, settling back in his chair. He interlaced his hands over his belly, like a man satisfied with a good meal. “The Spindles hold up the realms. We aren’t dead yet, so that’s something.” “That’s something,” Sigil echoed, shaking her head. We aren’t dead yet. Corayne almost laughed, and the many long days of travel and toil seemed to crash all at once, a terrible wave. The sea serpents, the horses, the oasis town filled with nothing but ghosts now. We aren’t dead yet, she thought. Weave that into a tapestry, for it seems to be the core thread of this journey.

The sea will conquer even mountains, given the time.

Andry joined him, standing with a shake of his head. "Sorrow touches us all, Lord Domacridhan, whether we believe in it or nor. It doesn't matter what you call the thing ripping you apart. It will still devour you if given the chance." "And how do I defend against such a thing, Squire?" the Elder demanded, his voice rising. Luckily, Corayne did not stir. "How do I fight what I cannot face?" In the training yard, the knights would bash their gauntlets, clutch hands, pull each other up after a particular nasty blow. Without thinking, Andry raised his own fingers, palm open, an offer as much as a plea. "With me," he said. "Together.

I wanted the horizon more than I wanted any cup or coin or concubine.

In the realm of financial markets, volatility is an inherent characteristic. Prices of stocks, commodities, and other securities can experience significant fluctuations within short periods. To manage such volatility and protect the interests of investors, circuit breakers are implemented. These circuit breakers impose upper and lower limits on price movements, which temporarily halt trading. In this blog post, we will explore the concept of upper and lower circuit limits, their purpose, and how they impact the functioning of financial markets. Defining Upper and Lower Circuit Limits Upper and lower circuit limits are predetermined price thresholds that trigger temporary trading halts. These limits are set by exchanges or regulatory bodies to prevent extreme price movements and provide stability to the market. When the price of a security reaches or breaches the upper or lower circuit limit, trading is paused for a specified period. This allows market participants to reevaluate their positions and absorb the information driving the price volatility. The Purpose of Circuit Breakers: The primary objective of circuit breakers is to safeguard the financial markets from excessive price volatility and potential panic selling or buying. These mechanisms help prevent extreme price movements that could be detrimental to market stability and investor confidence. By temporarily halting trading, circuit breakers provide a cooling-off period, allowing participants to assess new information and avoid making impulsive decisions. Moreover, circuit breakers ensure orderly trading and prevent the market from being dominated by high-frequency trading strategies that thrive on short-term price fluctuations. They offer investors an opportunity to reassess their strategies and risk exposure, reducing the likelihood of knee-jerk reactions based on short-term market movements. Understanding the Upper Circuit Limit : The upper circuit limit represents the maximum price movement permitted for security within a trading session. When the price of a security reaches or surpasses the upper circuit limit, trading in that security is halted. The upper circuit limit aims to prevent excessive speculative buying and provides a pause for market participants to analyze the new information or demand driving the price surge. During the trading halt, market participants can evaluate the situation, adjust their strategies, and determine whether to buy, sell, or hold the security when trading resumes. The duration of the halt varies depending on the exchange or regulatory body and is typically predetermined. Understanding the Lower Circuit Limit: Conversely, the lower circuit limit represents the minimum price movement allowed for security. When the price of a security falls to or breaches the lower circuit limit, trading is halted. The lower circuit limit is designed to prevent panic selling and provides market participants with an opportunity to reassess their positions. Similar to the upper circuit limit, the duration of the trading halt triggered by a lower circuit limit breach is typically predetermined. During this time, investors can evaluate the reasons behind the price decline, analyze market conditions, and make informed decisions. Impact of Circuit Breakers on Financial Markets: Circuit breakers play a crucial role in maintaining market stability, particularly during periods of heightened volatility and uncertainty. By temporarily halting trading, they allow time for market participants to process new information, reassess their positions, and avoid making impulsive decisions based on short-term price movements. Circuit breakers also facilitate the restoration of liquidity in the market. When trading is halted, market makers and other participants have an opportunity to recalibrate their pricing and liquidity provision strategies, which can help smooth out price discrepancies and enhance market efficiency.

Her eyes were unremarkable, black all the way through, flat and empty as a starless night. Inscrutable, distant. As Corayane felt apart from the world, her eyes showed it.

Half of Corayne thought this stupid; the other half, impossible. But both sides were also in agreement. This is the best way out of here. To the horizon and beyond it. To whoever I am, in my bones. “So how do we…save the realm?” She said. It sounded ridiculous out loud.

Harrsing grinned in approval. “The Crown Council is with you.” Until they aren’t. Erica knew. Until they find someone else they’d rather stand behind.

I dont belong anywhere, “ Corayne said, her voice failing. To her surprise, Sorasa cracked a smile. “There are plenty of people like that, “ she sad. “And nowhere is still somewhere.” “That’s foolish.” “Well, if you dont belong to a place, perhaps we belong to each other? We who belong nowhere?” Sorasa offered. Her copper eyes glimmered, dancing with the light off the river.

Corayne suspected he would care very much, After all, Sorasa had called him a stupid, stubborn ass. Although, she thought, my translation might not be accurate. The Ibalet words for stupid and handsome are quite similar.

Amhara Fallen. Forsaken. Broken, Osara.

Taristan followed after her, resplendent in imperial red, a son of Old Cor in image as well as blood. He looked far from the man she’d met in the throne room, his muddy cloak exchanged for silk and brocade. But the soldier’s edge remained. No amount of finery could hide his lethal heart.

And there was nothing the commons loved so much as a wedding, the splendor of a life they could not fathom brought close for a heartbeat. Joy, as false as it might be, was difficult to resist.

The Elders took my brother to Iona and made him there. The rest of the world made me.

Pale with fear to with frustration, Dom had no ideia. Mortals are impossible to fathom, especially Sorasa Sarn.

Even so, Dom felt Taristan breathing down his neck again, his voice hateful and gloating. Shall I kill her in front of you too? The leather of the reins cracked between Dom’s hands, threatening to tear. He wanted to do it, to feel something break that wasn’t his own heart.

There are breakers of castles, breakers of chains, breakers of kings and kingdoms,” she said, her voice iron. “You are a realm breaker Taristan, You would crack this world apart and build an empire from it’s ruins.

The spindle is the danger, not the men seeking it. — Okran of Kasa

What you learned in a palace, I learned better in the mud." — Taristan of Old Cor

I am not brave.” Dom ran a hand over his face, feeling his scars. The skin was hard and puckered. He would never be the same as he was before the temple. And history was about to repeat itself. “I am angry, saddened, frustrated—all things but brave.” “I disagree.

Sorasa braced bloody hands on her hips. "She's seen our faces and she won't stop rhyming. We need to kill her." "I don't think that can be the solution to every obstacle," Andry said weakly.

The Amhara has great need for those who can pass unseen, and who is more unseen to men than a woman?

I began this day on one battlefield, and now I stand on another entirely. She certainly felt like a soldier, fighting with wits and intelligence instead of a sword. A sword is far more simple.

Andry’s natural instinct was to swallow his retort, to bury rough words. To find a gentler way. But the road had ways of changing a person, especially the road they were walking now.

If you were expecting a warm welcome from one such as Eyda, you were mistaken.” “Clearly.” The Lady of Kovalinn still stood the walls, staring out into the long craggy jaws of the fjord, toward the Glorysea. “She seems to be made of stone.” “She is Glorianborn.” Kesar’s joyful air faded a little, and a grim shadow Ridha recognized passed over her face. “We are graver than you children of the Ward.” Ridha tasted bitterness on her own tongue. The light of different stars, she thought, remembering her mother and how she used to glare at the sky, as if she could will the stars of Glorian to replace the stars of the Ward. “I know that more than most.

Such is the way of mothers, to think the sun and the moon of their children.

Corayne suspected he would care very much. After all, Sorasa had called him a stupid, stubborn ass. Although, she thought, my translation might not be accurate. The Ibalet words for stupid and handsome are quite similar.

The knowledge about the 'Self' will emerge from teaching science with an approach tuned to cosmic rhythm. That is only possible through life-centric education. This approach towards science will have carry-over effects on other subjects and the teaching of those subjects will also come into the realm of light of life-oriented education. Science has the power to give the vision to see the unity between 'Self' and the universe. It is an illusion of the 'Self' that keeps the vision limited to the family, society, country, or the visible world. Scientifically developed universal consciousness can enable the 'Self' to play its personal, social, national, international, and universal role efficiently.

Sometime past midnight, the two men did try to rob her. She sent them both out the open window.

If we’re lucky, the fire will cover our tracks,” she said. As they ran, she watched the walls, studying the stonework. “The guards will be too busy saving the old keep to check the dungeons.” “Oh, I just thought you hated libraries,” Sigil muttered. Sorasa’s true laugh echoed off the stone.

You say her path is drawn,” Eyda said evenly, addressing Valtik. “Can you tell us where that path leads?” The witch spun slowly, examining the gabled ceiling. “You are on it. The lanterns are lit.” Andry fought back another wave of frustration. “If her path is our own, then Iona is correct,” he said sharply. “We’ll find her there. And maybe then I can be rid of you once and for all.” “Be careful what you say before the eyes of Lasreen,” Valtik chided. She gestured to the carvings on the towering columns and spiraled her wrist. The smoke of the heart fire twisted oddly through her fingers. “In her temple, all things are seen.” “Good,” Andry hissed. “She can see how annoying you are.” While the bone witches recoiled at the insult, Valtik giggled. “Annoying indeed,” she said airily. “But only in need.” Andry felt his eyes roll into the back of his head.

You say her path is drawn,” Eyda said evenly, addressing Valtik. “Can you tell us where that path leads?” The witch spun slowly, examining the gabled ceiling. “You are on it. The lanterns are lit.” Andry fought back another wave of frustration. “If her path is our own, then Iona is correct,” he said sharply. “We’ll find her there. And maybe then I can be rid of you once and for all.” “Be careful what you say before the eyes of Lasreen,” Valtik chided. She gestured to the carvings on the towering columns and spiraled her wrist. The smoke of the hearth fire twisted oddly through her fingers. “In her temple, all things are seen.” “Good,” Andry hissed. “She can see how annoying you are.” While the bone witches recoiled at the insult, Valtik giggled. “Annoying indeed,” she said airily. “But only in need.” Andry felt his eyes roll into the back of his head

Sorasa Sarn rolled out onto the cold floor and Dome’s vision slanted, his head spinning. Ronin laughed, the sound like shattering glass. “Honestly, I expected more from an Amhara.” Something snapped in Domacridhan, bone-deep. Like an earthquake breaking a mountain. He knew only fury, only rage. He felt nothing, not even the snapping of the chains around his wrist, the steel links shearing apart beneath his own force. Whatever immortal soul he carried disappeared, reducing him to little more than beast. Six harried, terrified heartbeats thrummed alongside his own. The knight and guards looked on him as they would a monster, the whites of their eyes flaring. Sigil’s heart raged, mirroring her anger. But Ronin’s heartbeat remained even. The wizard was not afraid. Weakly, beneath the rest, another heat drummed. Steady but slow. And stubbornly alive. “Sorasa, SORASA!” Sigil’s cry rebounded off the walls, her voice coming from seemingly everywhere. Don’s free hand went to his collar, his fingers working to grip the metal edge. “She’s alive,” he bit out. It calmed Sigil, but only a little. “Tsk, tsk, Domacridhan,” the wizard said, ticking his head back and forth. With another twitch of his fingers, he gestured to the knights again. Wide-eyed as they were, they locked Sorasa in her cell and made for Dom. Metal groaned as Dom pulled away the collar, its screws tearing out of the stove behind him. With both shoulders and one arm free, he went for his other wrist next. The jailer’s key jingled closer, the lock on his cell door clicking open, and three of the knights surged in. Dom caught the first knight by the gauntlet, his open palm wrapping around an armored wrist. In the corridor, the fourth knight yelped, coming too close to Sigil’s cell. She moved lightning fast, thrusting an arm through the bars to grab him around his throat. The other knights surrounded Dom, leaving their compatriot to fend for himself as they overwhelmed the immortal. To his surprise, they left their swords sheathed, using all their weight to pin his arm back against the wall. Dom cursed them in his own language, loosing five hundred years of immortal rage. His teeth snapped, inches from their armor, fighting to find any gap of skin. Desperation set in slowly, his window of opportunity disappearing with every second. One of the knights put his forearm to Dom’s neck, throwing all his weight into it. Steel slammed against his throat. “You accomplished nothing but a few new bruises,” Ronin said above the sun.

You truly believe it, don’t you?” he said softly. “The end of the realm?” “Of course I do. I’ve seen it. I know it,” Charlie snapped. Despite his frustration, somehow it felt good to quarrel with Garion. It meant he was real, and imperfect, flawed as Charlie remembered. Not some shining hallucination. “The city behind us burns, you saw it too.” “Cities burn all the time,” Garion replied, swishing his rapier through the air. Charlie put out a hand and the assassin stilled, the light sword hanging at his side. “Not like this,” Charlie breathed, forceful as he could be. He willed his lover to listen, to hear his own terror. “Garion, the world is ending. And we will end with it.” With a long sigh, Garion sheathed his blade. “You really know how to destroy a moment, don’t you, darling?” He shook a finger at him. “Is this that religious guilt all you priests carry, or just your personality?” Charlie shrugged. “Probably both. Can’t allow myself a single moment of happiness, can I?

Somehow, clad in her nightclothes, surrounded by ashes, Erida still played the part of imperious queen. "Even I know immortals can burn," she said. "So long as you burn with me, I die well.

All these months, Sigil was a wall behind her, someone to lean on, as close to a trustworthy friend as Sorasa had. After almost losing her in Gidastern, farewell felt like salt in a still-bleeding wound. But Sorasa respected Sigil too much to embarrass her with goodbyes. Our paths have already been laid, our fates written by godly hands. She only hoped the ink of their lives wove together for a little while still.

Can Elders die of Starvation?” Sigil asked suddenly, returning to her exercises. Dom thought of his stomach again, and his last meal. It was too many days ago to count, his memory hazy. “We might find out,” he sighed. Sigil bent into a sit-up, bound hands crossed over her chest. “And you still can’t move at all?” Despite the circumstances, Dom wanted to laugh, his lips twitching. “No, I choose to remain like this.” “Strange time to finally grow a sense of humor, Dom,” she replied. He tipped back to look at the ceiling, tracing the cracks between the stones and wooden beams. Looking anywhere but the unmoving body a few cells away, her face still obscured. Her heart still beating. “It was bound to happen eventually,” he sighed.

I will try.’” That’s what you said in the forest,” Charlie muttered. “That you would try to believe.” A scoff burst from Garion’s lips and he put the sword aside. “I’m surrounded by immortals about to assault a dragon’s nest. I certainly believe you now.” Charlie only shook his head. “I need you to believe in me, too,” he replied. “Help me to believe in myself. And help me stay alive.” Still glaring at the dead grass, Garion gritted his teeth. “That’s what I’m trying to do, my darling.” “I’m not going anywhere.” It came out too harsh, too loud. Impossible to ignore. Finally Garion raised his eyes. He looked torn between frustration and anger. The killer in him was there, small but enough to see. Amhara were trained to survive, to make it home to the citadel even in failure. Garion warred with his own instincts, Charlie knew. Not for the realm, but for me. “You can run, but I—” Charlie forced out, his voice faltering. He looked to the horizon again, and the black ruins. Then to the camp, the Elders, to Corayne lingering at their edges. She stood out like a sore thumb, a mortal girl in the middle of the end of the world. It was easy for Charlie to draw a little strength from her own. “If I run, I still die here,” he said, feeling his own heart twist. “Part of me. The part you love.” Garion put his hand to his neck. “You think that now but—” “I tasted the shame of it before.” Charlie forced off the Amhara with a swipe. His cheeks flamed. “When I ran from Gidastern. I know what it feels like to think the worst of your own self. To be consumed by regret. And I won’t do it again. I won’t leave her.” Charlie willed Garion to see the resolve he felt as much as feared. “Stop giving me the chance to give up,” he finally murmured, looking back to the horizon.

to those who walk in darkness, but never lose hope and to me as I was at fourteen, looking for this story I finally found it

He wished for the relief of tears.

Erida looked away from them to the grand altar of the Konrada, magnificent in marble and gilding. She remembered what it felt like to stand there, before the faces of the gods, a veil on her head, a sword in her hand, with Taristan beside her. She did not love him then, when she pledged her life to his own. She had no idea what path lay before her, what fate was already made. Her right hand lay curled in her lap now, half-covered in bandages. A little blood had already begun to seep through, staining everything around it. “The last time you and I were here, we held the marriage sword between us,” she said. Taristan’s face went stone-blank in his usual way. It was his shield and crutch, Erida knew. After a childhood like his own, abandoned to the world, his emotions were always a burden. Always a weakness. “Good that I am not a man,” she continued. “I will never hold a sword again.” One of his fingers twitched at his side, the only indication of Taristan’s discomfort. “Your heart is sword enough,” he ground out, his eyes on her face.

Our paths have already been laid, our fates written by godly hands. She only hoped the ink of their lives wove together for a little while still.

Even Charlie could admit it was not logic speaking. But his own wretched fear.

Sorasa Sarn rolled out onto the cold floor and Dom’s vision slanted, his head spinning. Ronin laughed, the sound like shattering glass. “Honestly, I expected more from an Amhara.” Something snapped in Domacridhan, bone-deep. Like an earthquake breaking a mountain. He knew only fury, only rage. He felt nothing, not even the snapping of the chains around his wrist, the steel links shearing apart beneath his own force. Whatever immortal soul he carried disappeared, reducing him to little more than beast. Six harried, terrified heartbeats thrummed alongside his own. The knight and guards looked on him as they would a monster, the whites of their eyes flaring. Sigil’s heart raged, mirroring her anger. But Ronin’s heartbeat remained even. The wizard was not afraid. Weakly, beneath the rest, another heat drummed. Steady but slow. And stubbornly alive. “Sorasa, SORASA!” Sigil’s cry rebounded off the walls, her voice coming from seemingly everywhere. Don’s free hand went to his collar, his fingers working to grip the metal edge. “She’s alive,” he bit out. It calmed Sigil, but only a little. “Tsk, tsk, Domacridhan,” the wizard said, ticking his head back and forth. With another twitch of his fingers, he gestured to the knights again. Wide-eyed as they were, they locked Sorasa in her cell and made for Dom. Metal groaned as Dom pulled away the collar, its screws tearing out of the stove behind him. With both shoulders and one arm free, he went for his other wrist next. The jailer’s key jingled closer, the lock on his cell door clicking open, and three of the knights surged in. Dom caught the first knight by the gauntlet, his open palm wrapping around an armored wrist. In the corridor, the fourth knight yelped, coming too close to Sigil’s cell. She moved lightning fast, thrusting an arm through the bars to grab him around his throat. The other knights surrounded Dom, leaving their compatriot to fend for himself as they overwhelmed the immortal. To his surprise, they left their swords sheathed, using all their weight to pin his arm back against the wall. Dom cursed them in his own language, loosing five hundred years of immortal rage. His teeth snapped, inches from their armor, fighting to find any gap of skin. Desperation set in slowly, his window of opportunity disappearing with every second. One of the knights put his forearm to Dom’s neck, throwing all his weight into it. Steel slammed against his throat. “You accomplished nothing but a few new bruises,” Ronin said above the din.

We Amhara are not meant to be remembered. We kill and we disappear. We don't stand around and beg for praise." "Well, you'll be the first, then." Dom said, matter-of-fact. She pursed her lips, confused. "The first?" He only blinked at her, as if the answer were obvious. "The first Amhara remembered.

So much of the world rests on the shoulders of two young women, with men squawking at our edges.

The fire Taristan spoke of licked up inside her, consuming her pain, turning it into something she could use instead. Anger. Fear. Anything but sorrow.

You'd think I'd be used to this by now." "Sorasa?" "Death," Dom clipped. "Though I supposed they are interchangeable.

No, not love. They will never love us." She shook her head at the court, despairing of the Madrentines as any good daughter of Galland would. Her voice dropped, her eyes flicking over Taristan again. "But they must respect you. Let them live. Let them see what a queen you are. How much better you are than the soft kings who came before, who sat this throne and did nothing but drink wine and write poetry." Harrsing's fingers tightened on Erida's arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Show them what real power is.

Real power. Erida felt it flowing through her veins now, as if drawn from the throne beneath her and the crown on her brow. It was more seductive than anything and anyone the Queen had ever know. She wanted more of it, but beyond that, she wanted to keep it.

I'd rather cut a man's throat than hold his hand.