he wears the smell of blood and death like a perfume. there is fire in his eyes and ice in his veins, but you love him anyway, for he is a star, burning with the light of a thousand suns (and your world is dark without him).
“she was there,” rhys said. “when the cauldron was sealing. going…wherever we go.” amren sputtered water, vomiting onto the rocky ground. mor thumped her back, coaxing her through it. “so i reached out a hand,” rhys went on quietly. “to see if she might want to come back.”