Crown of Midnight

And the world … it was moving on without her.

And isn’t the journey more important than the end?

He had lost her.

And she would never, in a thousand lifetimes, let him in again.

But death was her curse and her gift

Nehemia was dead.

His soul was bound to hers by some unbreakable chain.

“She won’t understand. And when she goes over the edge, there will be nothing to pull her back.”

“She will find her way back. She always does.”

There was never absolute good or absolute evil

The kiss obliterated her.

It was like coming home or being born or suddenly finding an entire half of herself that had been missing.

There had never been any line between them, only his own stupid fear and pride. Because from the moment he’d pulled her out of that mine in Endovier and she had set those eyes upon him, still fierce despite a year in hell, he’d been walking toward this, walking to her.

So Chaol brushed away her tears, lifted her chin, and kissed her.