“Char was looking at me with such gladness, and I loved him so. I was the cause of his joy and would be the cause of his destruction: a secret delivered to his enemies, a letter written in my own hand, a covert signal given by me, poison in his glass, a dagger in his ribs, a fall from a parapet.
"Marry me, Ella," he said again, the order a whisper now. "Say you'll marry me."
Anyone else could have said no or yes. This wasn't a royal command. Char probably had no idea he'd given an order.
But I had to obey—wanted to obey—hated to harm him—wanted to marry him. I would destroy my love and my land. They were in anger, and no one could rescue them. We were all doomed, all cursed.
Char was too precious to hurt, too precious to lose, too precious to betray, too precious to marry, too precious to kill, to precious to obey.”