Lay down the thorn, boy king. Haven’t you earned a bit of rest? Aren’t you tired?'He was. Saints, he was. He thought he had grown used to his scars, but he had never grasped how much of his will it would take to hide them. He had fought and sacrificed and bled. He had gone long days without rest and long nights without comfort. All for Ravka, all for an ideal he would never attain and a country that would never care.
-Leigh Bardugo
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