She didn't want to recall how Nehemia had been used-had used -against her, to force her to act. Wanted to pretend she wasn't starting to forget what Nehemia had looked like.
"Shift again," Rowan ordered, jerking his chin at her. "This time, try to-"
She was forgetting what Nehemia looked like. The shade of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the smell of her. Her laugh. The roaring in Celaena's head went quiet, silenced by that familiar nothingness. But Celaena didn't know how to stop it. The one person she could have told, who might have understood . . . She was buried in an unadorned grave, so far from the sun-warmed soil that she had loved.
"Shift again," Rowan ordered, jerking his chin at her. "This time, try to-"
She was forgetting what Nehemia looked like. The shade of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the smell of her. Her laugh. The roaring in Celaena's head went quiet, silenced by that familiar nothingness. But Celaena didn't know how to stop it. The one person she could have told, who might have understood . . . She was buried in an unadorned grave, so far from the sun-warmed soil that she had loved.
( Sarah J. Maas )
[ Heir of Fire ]
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