Cordelia felt the weight of at her hip, the sword that was both her greatest strength and her heaviest burden. She looked from the steel to the paper, realizing that in the world of Shadowhunters, destiny wasn't something you read in the cards—it was something you carved out of the dark, one stroke at a time.
Cordelia didn't look up. James Herondale moved with the quiet grace of a shadow, his presence a constant, low-thrumming ache in her chest. Cordelia_tarot_Cordelia.epub
"I'm thinking about what the cards don't say," she replied, finally turning the card over. The illustration showed a warrior—not unlike herself—standing before a rising sun, a massive gold-hued blade held aloft. "They show the glory of the hero, the sharp edge of the steel. They never show the hand that bleeds from holding it." Cordelia felt the weight of at her hip,