Before he turned away, I asked, 'What do you need?' 'I need you. I need to give you a proper kiss. I need you to be my mate.

To Yelena, our newest food taster. May you last longer than your predecessor.

Maximum damage. It was the beginning of the end. Either we would fail or not. At least we could say we tried.

I took three steps and was wrapped in his arms, where I belonged. No confusion here. No worries here. No troubles here.

Do you really want to know why you lost?” I asked. “Do you really have an answer?” he countered. “You need to get off your horse and run with your men. You don’t have the stamina for a long fight. And find a lighter sword.” “But it was my uncle’s.” “You’re not your uncle.” “But I’m the King, and this is the King’s sword,” Cahil said. His brows creased together. He seemed confused. “So wear it to your coronation,” I said. “If you use it in battle, you’ll be wearing it to your funeral,” I said.

At first, it feels as if she has vanished forever, and all traces are destroyed. But later, when the pain of loss doesn't overwhelm all your other feelings, every time you think of her, or hear her voice in your head, or remember a happy time together, you realize she's still a part of you and will never be totally gone.

Sleep? What's that? A new type of casserole?