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wordsafterhours · 2 months

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Songs About You - Chapter 16

Author's Note: Hello all! Here is a short chapter, angsty and nothing but a filler. Next chapter, will actually be content to move the story along and give more of an expanded back story on Gav and Aed. We'll also see more quality time between our two favorite people :)

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist

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Yulemas had come and gone, as had all the decorations, sans the tree in her bedroom. Aelin found herself staring at it often, replaying the entirety of Yulemas over in her head on a continual loop. As promised, Fleetfoot’s ornament hung next to the heart of fire, its glaze making it gleam against the artificial light of the tree. She had tried to pack the tree away, several times, but couldn’t bare the idea of wrapping any of it up after not having seen it for so long.

The tips of her fingers glided over the dog miniature, grooves of whittled wood barely discernable against the pad. It astounded her that such large hands could have crafted something so detailed and small. It was beautiful and perfect and the most thoughtful gift she’d had in some time. The corners of her mouth tugged up—the ghost of a sentimental smile. “I’ll be back to admire you later,” she told the object, ignoring it was inanimate and didn’t care if she came or went.

It was just her today at the store, which required her to be punctual for the first time in weeks. Aelin had grown spoiled by Evangeline opening the store and was begrudging the fact that she couldn’t drink a cup of coffee on the back porch and read a chapter in her book before work. Well, she could have, but it would have required sacrificing sleep, and that wasn’t a preferable option.

Mindlessly, she showered, then slipped into a dark-green, oversized sweater, and off-white corduroy pants. She braided her hair and wove the tails into a bun at the base of her skull using pearl tipped pins to hold it the arrangement in place. A few pieces of hair were tugged out to frame her face. Two quick swipes of mascara and Aelin deemed herself presentable enough to be out the door.

A light covering of frost dusted the windshield but not enough that it would delay her too long. Turning the vehicle on, she dug in the floorboards for the ice scraper amongst discarded receipts and croissant wrappers, before clearing the windshield. The drive into town was uneventful but beautiful, the Staghorns, lower valley, and Oakwald forest was still quite covered in snow. Terrasen was never more picturesque than in its winter glory.

By the gods, there was a spot open right in front of the shop and Aelin pulled her vehicle into it, cutting the engine with a little smile. Usually, she parked at Lysandra’s or down the block, preferring not to have to deal with the main street traffic. The day wasn’t going to warm up much and the idea of walking after dark sounded unappealing.

Like the Christmas tree still taking up residence in her room, twinkling lights and green garlands adorned the windows of Present Tense, which made her smile brightly every time she saw them. It wasn’t practical to leave them up much longer but with everything lately, the small joy was a novelty not worn yet. The smell of aged paper, leather, and spices reached her nose as Aelin pushed through the front door, flipping lights on as she went through the store.

Mindlessly, she powered on the computer, put coffee to brew, and started a fire in the fireplace. The store would open soon and needed to be as inviting as possible in hopes of combating the post-holiday lull that it was in. It happened every year but there was always a small sliver of hope on her part that it wouldn’t. How could people not appreciate the written word every day of the year?

Minutes faded into hours, and it was lunchtime, with not a single customer having come through the doors. Inventory, payroll, and needed ordering had been done. Bookcases dusted, wood oiled; Aelin had even made sure her under the desk spider was still happy and thriving. Staring at the door waiting for someone to come in was quite literally inducing a headache. Popping two pain pills, she loosed a resigned sigh, plopping down in a worn, plush chair adjacent to the crackling fire. Others may not be reading today but the same would not be said for her.

She was warm, almost unpleasantly, and a small neck twinge was beginning to register on the outermost fragments of her consciousness—It wasn’t enough to fully rouse her though and she burrowed back against the soft velvet. A featherlight touch traced the shell of her ear, accompanied by a warm, low chuckle. Reluctantly, Aelin cracked a lid, her turquoise and gold eye searching for the disruptor.

“There she is,” he murmured with a small smile.

“Hi,” she replied sleepily, sitting up and stretching her sleep-addled body. Involuntarily, she winced, the twinge in her neck more serious than it had felt half asleep.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking two quick steps in her direction.

“Nothing, just stretched wrong is all.”

One silver brow raised, his face tight as his green eyes roved over her, trying to a discern the depth of her candor. Whatever he saw had him standing between her legs in an instant, peering down at her with perfected skepticism. “Turn around.”

“Rowan, I said I was fine.” The last thing she needed was his hands on her, blurring the line she was trying so hard to keep straight. Narrow. Uncrossed. Their track record was quite poor, but it was a new year for new beginnings, with eleven months to go.

“You can’t even straighten your neck right. Your right eye keeps squinting when you move and you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.” Could nothing be secret from him? Aelin had been commended on her poker face, it was one of her greatest assets, and now when it was needed most, it was painfully absent.

“I can live with a stiff neck, Ro,” she argued, leaning back against the chair and crossing her arms to strengthen her declination.

“Gods, you’re a literal pain in my ass,” he snarked.

“I’m not trying to be.”

Lies. Liar. Difficult was exactly the strategy Aelin was playing. If he was mad, then he wouldn’t want to help her and on the straight and narrow she could continue.

“It’s a good thing I’m bigger than you, though.” His lilt was teasing, light, and his grin, as roguish as she’d ever seen it. Only half a word had made it passed her pink lips before being cut off by a loud squeal as dragged her from the chair and onto the plush rug beneath their feet.

“Now, you can either keep lying flat of your back, pouting, or you can sit in front of the fire and let me work out the knot. I vote the latter but again, your choice.”

She hadn’t seen him since their Yulemas festivities, and it suddenly dawned on her how much his presence had been missed. Despite the bothersome stiff neck and having been dragged from the chair like a child, her heart felt light in a way that couldn’t quite be placed. The corners of her mouth turning up into a genuine smile.

“I’m going to hurt you if your antics messed up my hair.” It was an empty threat and the only response given to let him know he’d won.

“Vain, as always,” he noted with a small shake of his head. Deftly, he maneuvered his large form to the ground, taking up residence behind her. It was fortunate that she was facing forward, if only to avoid his piercing gaze as her cheeks heated at the intimacy of their set up. An urge to lean back against him was ferociously clawing its way up her throat as each second ticked by.

If only to redirect her own thoughts, Aelin moved one leg up and rested her chin atop her knee, idly playing with the soft carpet beneath her right hand. If Rowan didn’t make a move soon, the anticipation of it was going to result in her saying something stupid about how this whole thing was his idea.

The touch of his hand was contradiction personified as he splayed it across her right shoulder, thumb digging in softly and firm all at once, working it into the muscle that paralleled her spine. The calloused fingers moved with awareness of her that they should not have possessed—his touch akin to that of a lover’s who had spent long hours tracing every square inch of fair skin until committed to memory.

Notes of tangy iron filled her mouth, an unintended consequence of sinking her teeth into the soft flesh of her lip; a pitiful attempt at stifling how marvelous it all felt. Her head tipped sidewise, temple resting against her leg now, granting Rowan better access to the column of her neck. Strong fingers pressed beneath the hollow of her ear, steadfastly following muscle tract to just above her collar bone. Featherlight, he grazed the length of delicate bone before returning to his starting point, again dragging firmly down in the same pattern. Heat sept in, washing away tension like ocean tides did sand.

A true glutton for punishment, Aelin tipped her head in the opposite direction, a silent signal for the male at her back to direct his focus elsewhere. With expert care, he massaged the muscles, working out the knots in much the same manner as before. An errant, small moan slipped out when Rowan’s fingers lazily dipped too far past her collar bone, barely missing the top of her breast. So much for that line she’d been towing.

If he pushed it, there was no way her heart or body could say no, even with her head a screaming cacophony of objecting reasons. The ache low in her core and between her thighs had her shifting uncomfortably, trying to soothe even a fraction of it. The green sweater, a good idea this morning, was surely becoming a nuisance against her flushed skin. Crackling wood wasn’t enough to drown out the low, shaky breaths at her back, and if that wasn’t indication enough of his shaken façade, both hands were on her back, lower—a safe layer of knit separating them.

She hissed when he hit a particularly tender spot in the small above her back and it seemed to be the reprieve they both needed. The anxiety dissipated and breaths came easier. Moving forward, they could not afford to continue to end up in these situations. No one ever wanted to be the other girl, especially her, even if Lyria had made her feel less a person on multiple occasions.

“I’ve got to sit down. I’m too old to keep this position,” Rowan admitted, sounding a little embarrassed at his admission. Soon, either side of her hips were cradled by legs as he stretched out.

Like this was going to fucking help anything. “Ro.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, Aelin.”

If she stayed put, did this make a her duplicitous in whatever ideology was governing him in to believing that this didn’t mean anything? Or should offense be what she should feel because perhaps none of it meant anything. It was easier to live with being a liar than being used by him.

Throwing her morals, standards, and protests to the wind, Aelin leaned fully back into him.

As he had done her shoulders and back, his muscular hands began to massage her arms. The air became oppressive again, not with unspent sexual tension, but with the acute awareness that this situation was surpassing unbefitting friend behavior. Several times, her mouth opened and then promptly closed as she choked down unbidden questions.

“Something you want to say?” he enquired quietly.

“Why?” Succinct. Falsely unaware. Confident.

“I can feel you get tense and relax and tense and relax. It’s obvious something is going through that head of yours.” His hand stilled except his thumb, which was drawing smooth circles against the underside of her wrist.

“A thought for a thought?” The entirety of his frame stiffened, and a cool draft crept up her spine as he leaned back, an invisible but tangible wall falling into place. For as open as he seemed to be, or intrusive, the minute things were not on his terms, Rowan became impenetrable as opalescent stone buildings of downtown Orynth.

Frustrated, Aelin started to scoot forward but halted when a relinquishing sigh guttered out behind her. White teeth pressed into her bottom lip, a poor attempt to stave off a satisfied, triumphant smirk. He gingerly grabbed her right hand, tugging her back against him. The tension was still there but had lessened a minutia.

His hand dwarfed hers but in the best way. The worn planes and callouses of his hand lit by the fire glow were the only thing her turquoise eyes seemed to be able to focus on. Everything about this man drew her in, like a greedy moth to a flame. Silence hung between them, her waiting patiently for what Rowan would say.

Or wouldn’t.

It could have been five minutes or thirty but soon what little patience lived in her body was dissipating. Expectantly, she turned to look up at him, eyes roving over his tight jaw and dark eyes. Whatever thoughts were running through his mind, she didn’t know but he looked quite truly a man at war with himself. Wisely, she kept her mouth shut.

His silver lashes were full, almost touching his cheeks as his gaze flicked down to her, briefly. “I’ve never had someone like you in my life, and I’m glad to call you my friend.”

The answer was paltry at best. It felt as though he was saying anything but what truly occupying his thoughts. His refusal to look at her when it wasn’t normally an issue spoke more than he probably realized. A veiled half-truth wasn’t what she had intended when she asked him a thought for a thought.

Aelin wanted to call him on his bullshit, to demand the same raw honesty he always demanded of her—that she always gave because anything less was unacceptable.

But, again, she stayed silent, merely shifting in his lap to rest her ear against his chest, taking in the steady thump of his heart as it slowed. When it returned to what seemed like a normal rate, her own half-truth tumbled from her lips. “I’m glad to call you my friend, too.”

Friend. Friend tasted acrid and wrong on her tongue despite the sentiment being mostly candid. Friend was too small, too generic of a word for what was living within her chest. Amongst the pages of some forgotten book, she had read once that liked called to like.

And that they were. Two halves of the same soul, cleaved apart long ago by the gods, left to search for another across time and space. It was the only plausible reason she could muster as to why he felt like home. In the very marrow of her bones, he had entombed himself. In any world, any life, Aelin would know him.

While she could not have him, not as she wanted in this reality, she would try her damnedest anyways. It didn’t matter what capacity he could afford her, Aelin would take it, hoarding their moments like a dragon with stolen crown jewels.

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Tag List:

@lunadorned @theresyourfireandblood @backtobl4ck @leiawritesstories @morganofthewildfire @rowaelinismyotp @jorjy-jo @theresyourfireandblood @numbers-colors-fashion @swankii-art-teacher @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @stardelia @astra-ad-mare

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfiction #songs about you #throne of glass fic #aelin x rowan #slow burn #wordsafterhours #throne of glass au #short update #sorry I've forgotten how to write #I've also lost my story notes somewhere sos

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rufousnmacska · 1 year

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Got any random manorian headcanons? I like how you write them!

Thank you! 🥰

Here’s a scene that’s been playing out in my head recently that doesn’t fit into any of my wips. I just typed it out on my phone without much editing so please forgive any errors.

I hope you like it! 💙💛💙💛

***

Orynth was months ago, and yet to Manon it sometimes felt like days. The ring of clashing swords, the smell of blood raining from the sky, the roar of dying wyverns. The blinding white light that consumed her coven. Some nights these sounds and images flooded her dreams, leaving her rigid and stiff upon waking. Other nights, she refused to give into the call of sleep, unwilling to relive the nightmares. She was running out of excuses for the odd mix of lethargy and nerves that left her mind foggy and appetite gone.

So when she’d overheard Petrah and Glennis discussing her condition one evening, heard them whispering about whether the King of Adarlan should be called to visit, Manon knew she had to do something.

After she reminded both witches who was Queen, and that they had no business sticking their noses into hers, she announced she’d be visiting Eyllwe. The kingdom had recently sent word that it was interested in negotiating a trade deal with the witches. Manon currently had nothing to offer, but the promise of their lands was great.

And if she could get away from the henpecking of her council, take Abraxos and fly, fly without stopping, maybe she could bring herself back to life. Rid herself of the nightmares and the constant tension in her body that ate up all her thoughts and energy. Maybe she could come back as her old self. Maybe…

When Abraxos leapt off the aerie and she felt the cold blast of air on her skin, Manon breathed more deeply than she had in weeks. She took her wyvern out everyday, but this felt different. Just the two of them, free and flying, with nothing ahead of them but open sky and the plains below.

The journey to Eyllwe was fast and trouble free. She hadn’t encountered another soul until she neared the outskirts of Banjali. She was welcomed with little pomp and shown to rooms in a tower far from where the royal family lived. Manon wasn’t insulted. Rather, she respected the fact they kept the royals protected. And as she’d arrived in dirty flying leathers with wind blown hair on a wyvern whining for meat, she was grateful to avoid an appearance in front of the entire court.

Her meetings were as no nonsense as the greeting and she found herself with a signed trade pact after only two days. Eyllwe would supply the witches with rice in exchange for wheat, once the witches’ crops produced enough to spare. The trip had been a whirlwind of new foods and new people. She’d been gifted a dress made of Eyllwe silk, and although she’d bowed to the King and Queen, then offered them a carved wooden box of healing herbs known only to the Crochans, she had no idea when or where she could possibly wear the slip of cloth. There was nothing to it, the deep wine red fabric ran like water through her fingers.

And now, as she flew on Abraxos, thinking over the details of the agreement she’d just made, she was slow to realize the sea that appeared out of the mist over her right shoulder. Manon twisted around in the saddle trying to orient herself. Land on the left, water on the right. They were headed north. Not northwest. Not back to the Witchlands.

But north to Rifthold.

Manon should have turned her godsdamned, smart ass wyvern around the second she’d noticed. But she hadn’t. She’d just… let him keep going. Closed her eyes and let the scent of the sea take over, the wind whipping them faster and faster north.

She still hadn’t had a full nights sleep despite her travels. But for a night or two, she’d gotten enough to take the edge off the nerves and exhaustion. With Rifthold’s glow growing brighter, she wondered if the nerves would return. They hadn’t seen each other since Orynth, had not exchanged any letters. And here she was, showing up unannounced, looking like a banshee. Not that the way she looked should matter.

Manon landed Abraxos just outside the city, not wanting to raise an alarm, by the guard or its residents. As she made her way through the dark streets, cloaked and hooded to avoid prying eyes, she saw a door open and steam pool out. Checking the sign, she decided to make a stop on her way to the castle.

She was surprised to find the gate into the keep open with people streaming inside. Guards flanked the entrance but there was little in the way of security. Manon simply walked through, still cloaked, with no questions asked. The idiocy of the guard made her blood boil. Their King had raw magic, but that was no excuse for lax protection.

When she got to an atrium that led into a ballroom, she made her way to the edge of the crowd. The space had a high ceiling that still showed signs of damage from when the witches had attacked. The thought made her hesitate. She looked down at the red dress she was wearing, touched the hair she’d pulled up after washing at the bath house. She shouldn’t be here. But then there was a break in the crowd and she saw him.

The ballroom was in the midst of reconstruction but that didn’t stop the King and his subjects from celebrating. Celebrating what, she had no idea. But she watched them from a half fallen in balcony that ringed the space. It was dark and empty up here, the perfect place for her to gather her courage.

And she would need it, she realized with a frown.

Dorian was dancing. With a woman.

He wore a sleek black suit coat that went to his knees. The only spot of color on him was a red shape embroidered on his lapel.

She, the one he danced with, wore a bright green dress that seemed to take up the entire floor. It was covered in bows and sashes that made Manon think of an over decorated cake she’d once seen in a bakery. The bodice was cut so low she wondered how the woman’s breasts weren’t popping out.

The music ended and another woman, this one older, took her place in Dorian’s arms. Manon found that her expression, now a scowl, didn’t lighten at the sight of this woman’s graying hair, or more modest dress. She found that with every dance partner she watched him hold, with every flirting courtesan throwing themselves at him, with every attractive eye, male and female, on Dorian…

She found herself getting angry.

Not at those people, but at herself.

Well, a little at them.

Dropping her cloak, she walked to the curved stairway that led to the dance floor. And just as she took the first step down the stairs to the ballroom floor, as if he’d knew she was there, Dorian turned and looked at her.

Manon held his gaze as she descended, as he made his way through the crowd towards her, a smile like she’d never seen blooming on his face.

He met her when she reached the next to last step. They were eye to eye and she felt her mouth curve in a smile to match his. She swore she saw his eyes glow brighter and his heartbeat race.

“Hello witchling,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

Manon took a second to catch her breath and then said, “Hello princeling.”

Before they could say another word, he swept her into his arms and into a dance.

She’d never danced before. Sensing her trepidation, he pulled her to the edge, away from everyone else where they could talk and sway back and forth.

With a nod to her dress. Dorian leaned to her ear and said, “This is the best birthday present I could have asked for.”

Manon started. “Your birthday?”

He grinned, running his fingers up and down her bare back and making her shiver. “I’m going to pretend you knew.”

Her eyes caught on the figure embroidered on his collar. It was a red and gold wyvern. The Adarlan crest. She’d seen it a hundred times, but this one was different. Silver thread was woven into the wings. Running a finger across it, she looked up at him. He nodded towards the far wall where the crest was painted. The center wyvern, a larger version of his, was framed by twelve smaller beasts. Manon stopped swaying and stared.

“It’s nothing,” Dorian said. “Just a token of our appreciation for what they gave.”

“It’s not nothing,” she said, swallowing back the emotion that threatened to overtake her.

Unsure of herself, she slowly reached up and laid her palm on his cheek. He shifted his head and was kissing her palm. Taking her hand in his, he led her through a hidden doorway into a narrow hall. Silently, she followed him through passages until they were in his rooms.

Alone.

Dorian pulled her gently into his arms and ran a finger under each of her eyes. She hadn’t been able to scrub away the darkness beneath them.

“I don’t want to sleep yet,” she said, looking around him towards the bed.

“And I don’t want to take off this dress yet.” The music was faint but they could still hear it. So they began to sway again, his fingers sending sparks over her skin.

That morning, Manon fell asleep with Dorian’s arm draped over her hip. She slept all day, and so did he.

It was his birthday after all.

#manorian #look for an update with Dorian’s pov 👀#manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #throne of glass #anon ask #my writing

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tadpolesonalgae · 10 months

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Beginning my Acotar reread with my mother, then it’s onto ToG

(Honestly felt so emotional just picking the books up)

#expect updates #acotar #acotar reread #tog #throne of glass #a court of thorns and roses

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ladylynse · 2 months

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Heyo! How are you doing? Just dropping by to say hi!

Hi! I'm doing well! I've been spending most of my free time wrapped up in a book series (I'm halfway done the last book), so life outside of that and what I have to do has mostly been me specifically setting aside time to do whatever it is and doing it. *grins*

(In my defense, I'm borrowing these books from the library, and the skip-the-line loans have shorter lending periods, 7 - 14 days depending on which library I get it from, and I've been lucky and those have been coming up when I'm on the previous book in the series, but honestly they're just good and I want to keep reading to see how the story unfolds.)

How about you? How have you been holding up?

#it's the throne of glass series by sarah j maas #so I'm on kingdom of ash #and so many of the threads strung throughout the series have come back and been tied in but there's still the odd one left #sometimes I can guess how they're going to fit in and sometimes it's a delightful surprise to see how it all comes together #but yes basically I've been doing a lot of reading when I have the time to do reading #I am apparently 59% done and just starting chapter 67 #I am going to be good and finish proofreading a chapter for a fic so I'll update that and then go back to reading #when I'm done I will be good and actually go back to writing but in the meantime....#ladylynse #asks

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hardpee · 2 years

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an i’m broke again emergency call for updated prices ! wowow !

#art #commissions #auug i will update this template #this is just for emergency help me get through the next month please please #hence the low slots 👁#also 12-19 slots open at a time was PHEWPH exhausting i don’t wanna get burnout #please spread ! help a little guy out#ALSO almost forget! a lot of these examples are commissions’#the full bodies #the wolf character and their gf was a commission from ultravioletcupid #the character in the throne and character with the bible belong to carcinoguts #and the page collage with the character with glasses is leaflens oc!

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sjmnextgenweek · 1 year

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1 month, 1 week, & 1 day

#acotar #tog #throne of glass #crescent city #I’ll update the countdown every few days #Sjmnextgenweek2023

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wondereads · 11 months

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Weekly Reading Update (5/29/23)

Reviews and thoughts under the cut

Heir of Fire by Sarah J. Maas (7/10)

It took me a while to finish this book, but I got through it. It was a solid 7 for me, which is what I typically give average books. I think it moved way to slowly, and really could not have cared less about Dorian's whole thing, but there were parts I liked. I really enjoyed Manon's perspective—the wyverns are just so cool—I liked Aedion, and Aelin's finale was pretty good, even if I wasn't a huge fan of the build-up. I like that the romance seems to be taking a turn towards a slow burn, which I prefer infinitely to the meet-and-get-together-in-one-book approach that Maas often uses.

Island of Silence by Lisa McMann (8/10)

The first book of The Unwanteds is firmly average. It's fun to read, but it lacks something that makes it stand out, especially considering when it was published. That all changes in Island of Silence. While the first half of the book is just okay and there are some character choices that irk me, the second half is just batshit insane. All sorts of things are happening, including some great worldbuilding developments, and there's a huge plot twist at the end. It definitely makes you want to read the next book!

Code by Kathy and Brendan Reichs (8/10)

I really enjoy the Virals series. It's a candy series for me; not exactly great quality but so much fun to eat. The mysteries in these books are always so well-planned and researched; it's obvious the Reichs put a ton of effort into writing these. If you ever want to know some facts about Charleston, just read these books. I'm a fan of Tory Brennan, she's a relatable and likable protagonist, and I loved that the romantic subplot was getting more attention in this one. My one major complaint is that Tory seems to be shifting more and more in not-like-other-girls. In the first book, she at least had one other girl she was friends with/looked up to. Now most of her female interactions are limited to her dad's well-meaning but frankly idiotic girlfriend and her school bullies, which doesn't really make for an incredibly feminist narrative.

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System Vol. 4 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (10/10)

This book is after the main story has ceased and is a collection of short stories and extras that are basically just fanfiction. I loved it. It was cute, silly, and...steamy at times. I feel like after the third volume, which while great doesn't really have the time to delve into the main relationship, it's the perfect addition. It's pretty adorable to watch them become more comfortable around each other, and there's also some development for the secondary relationship and some side characters such as Liu Qingge and Yue Qingyuan. I enjoyed myself supremely.

Blood Bonds by J. Bree (CR, 51%)

I've made very little progress with this book since last week. I'm in no rush, and I've been craving a bit more substance. If you'd like to see my thoughts, check out the reading update from last week.

Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros (CR, 25%)

This book has been hyped to the moon and back, so I'm kind of nervous! So far, it's pretty good. I like that the main character, Violet, is clever and uses that to her advantage, though I do find her personality, which is very stubborn and sassy, very similar to most other YA/NA protagonists. It's really obvious who the love interest is supposed to be, but I like him so far, and I also like that there's no instalove situation going on, even if Violet (fairly) finds him attractive. The worldbuilding is incredibly interesting—the way the dragons work and the different types are just right up my alley. I suspect that while everything right now is revolving around Violet simply living through the next three years, there's something more under the surface (there have already been hints of historical revisionism!).

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