Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop.

But kissing Locke never felt the way that kissing Cardan does, like taking a dare to run over knives, like an adrenaline strike of lightning, like the moment when you've swum too far out in the sea and there is no going back, only cold black water closing over your head.

The curse is broken. The king is returned."He's every bit as terrifying as any serpent.I don't care. I run into his arms.Cardan's fingers dig into my back. He's trembling, and whether it is from ebbing magic or horro, I am not sure. But he holds me as though I am the only solid thing in the world.

Cardan looks at me as though he's never seen me before. He looks at me as though no one has ever spoken to him like this. Maybe no one has.

My sweet nemesis , how glad I am that you returned

What could I become if I stopped worrying about death, about pain, about anything? If I stopped trying to belong? Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear.

Get down here before you’re recognized.” “Playing hide-and-seek under the table? Crouching in the dirt? Typical of your kind, but far beneath my dignity.” He laughs unsteadily, like he expects I am going to laugh, too. I don’t. I ball up my fist and punch him in the stomach, right where I know it will hurt. He staggers to his knees. The goblet drops to the dirt, making a hollow clanking sound. “Ow!” he shouts, and lets me tug him under the table.

I have lied and I have betrayed and I have triumphed. If only there was someone to congratulate me.

Let's have a toast. To the incompetence of our enemies.