My first instinct is to push you until you break just to see how hard I have to press.

I’m not anyone,” he says. “I’m nobody. That’s what being factionless is.

He doesn’t scowl, but his mouth is so tense that I know he’s angry with me. 'Don’t be an idiot,' he says. 'An idiot?' Is he talking about the blanket? 'You were lying.

I need the protection of seeming weak.

They died for me,” I say. That feels important

i like to think that im helping them by hating them

By the time we leave, I have red lips and curled eyelashes, and I’m wearing a bright red dress. And there’s a knife strapped to the inside of my knee. This all makes perfect sense.