“Some small part of me whispered that I could survive Amarantha; I could survive leaving Tamlin; I could survive transitioning into this new, strange body... But that empty, cold hole in my chest... I wasn't sure I could survive that.

Even in the years I'd been one bad week away from starvation, that part of me had been full of colour, of light. Maybe becoming a faerie had broken it. Maybe Amarantha had broken it.

Or maybe I had broken it, when I shoved that dagger into the hearts of two innocent faeries and their blood had warmed my hands.”