81
" Before I knew you,” he began again, “I didn’t intend to live past rescuing my brother. I didn’t want to serve the Noavek family. I didn’t want to give my life to them. But when it’s you…it seems like whatever the end is, it might be worthwhile.”
Maybe, to another person, this might have sounded kind. Or at least realistic. A person couldn’t avoid fate. That was the whole point. Fate was the place at which all possible life paths converged--and when the oracles said “all,” they meant all. So was it really so bad, being something good in the fate Akos dreaded?
Maybe not. To another person.
Unfortunately, I was not another person.
“What you’re telling me,” I said, “is that if you’re going to have your head chopped off anyway, it’s at least nice to have your head on a very soft chopping block.”
“That’s…” He made a frustrated noise. “That’s the worst possible way to interpret what I said! "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
84
" Tepes, Ogra, and Shotet were on one side of an ongoing debate with Othyr, Thuvhe, and Pitha about the oracles. And the word debate was somewhat ill-chosen, since the environment was, as Teka had put it, “a bit tense.” Bad, in other words. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
91
" Akos was already standing there. He had saved us places, as the path became more crowded, though really, people would have moved out of my way if I came near anyway. I tried not to care about that. I stood between him and Teka, and listened for the captain’s shout to brace ourselves.
Akos reached for my hand as the ship drew nearer to the blue light, deep and rich in color. He would let go when we entered the currentstream, to allow me to feel its effects, agonizing though they were, but it felt good to have him there as we approached. My heart was pounding. I loved this part.
The real surprise, though, was Teka’s hand seizing mine from the other side. There was giddy smile on her face.
“I am a Shotet,” she said, more to herself than to me. “I am sharp as a blade, and just as strong…”
It was a variation on the other poem I had seen scrawled on a wall in Voa, the one penned as a criticism of the Noavek government:
I am a Shotet.
I am sharp as broken glass, and just as fragile.
I see all of the galaxy and never catch a glimpse of it.
I liked the other one better, because it was a reminder of my own fragility, my own tendency to see what I wanted to see. But this version was good, too.
I was surprised when Akos joined her in reciting the last lines:
“I see all of the galaxy,” he said, “and it is all mine.”
“Prepare yourselves!” came the shout from below.
Both Teka and Akos released my hands, almost in the same moment. And the ship was consumed by blue light. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
92
" For a long time, there were only two fated families on Thuvhe,” I said, “and yet, aside from that one exception, the leadership has only ever been with the Benesits, when the fates have named a chancellor at all. Is that not strange to you?”
“Maybe we aren’t any good at leading.”
“Maybe fate favors you,” I said. “Maybe thrones are curses.”
“Fate doesn’t favor me,” he said gently, so gently I almost didn’t realize what he meant. His fate--the third child of the family Kereseth will die in service to the family Noavek--was to betray his home for my family, in serving us, and to die. How could anyone see that as anything but a hardship?
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking--”
“Cyra,” he said. Then he paused, frowning at me. “Did you just apologize?”
“I do know the words,” I replied, scowling back. “I’m not completely without manners.”
He laughed. “I know the Essanderae word for ‘garbage’; that doesn’t mean I sound right saying it.”
“Fine, I revoke my apology.” I flicked his nose, hard, and when he cringed away, still laughing, I said, “What’s the Essanderae word for ‘garbage’?”
He said it. It sounded like a word reflected in a mirror, said once forward and once backward.
“I’ve found your weakness,” he said. “I just have to taunt you with knowledge you don’t have, and you’re distracted immediately.”
I considered that. “I guess you’re allowed to know one of my weaknesses…considering you have so many to exploit. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
100
" I’m tired of everything,” he said. “I’m tired all the time.”
He sighed again, heavily.
“Mostly,” he said, “I’m tired of not being near you.”
I found myself relaxing, shifting back so I was pressed against him, a wall of heat all the way down my spine. He rested his hands on my hips, his fingers creeping under the hem of my shirt just enough to dull my pain. Let the damn poison beetles come, I thought, as I felt a kiss on my neck, right behind my ear.
This was inviting further pain, and I knew it. His fate wouldn’t let him choose me, and even if that wasn’t the case, I suspected the deep well of his grief wouldn’t let him choose anything at all. But I was sick of doing what was good for me.
He kissed where my neck met my shoulder, lingering, his tongue tasting my skin, which was likely salty from sweat. I reached up and buried my fingers in his hair, holding him against me for a moment, and then twisting my neck so our mouths collided. Our teeth clacked together, and normally we would have drawn back and laughed, but neither of us was in a laughing mood. I pulled at his hair, and his hands tightened around my hips so hard it was just on the good side of painful.
I had buried myself in rage since the destruction of the sojourn ship, and since the illusions between him and me fell away. Now I buried myself in wanting him instead, twisting into him, grabbing his body wherever my hands found purchase. Want me, I told him, with each clutch of my fingers. Choose me. Want me. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
