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“Slowly, Tamlin's head lifted, his unbound golden hair dull and matted. 'Do you think she will forgive me?' The question was a rasp, as if he'd been screaming. I knew whom he meant. And I didn't know. I didn't know if her wishing him happiness was the same as forgiveness. If Feyre would ever want to offer that to him. Forgiveness could be a gift to both, but what he'd done... 'Do you want her to?' His green eyes were empty. 'Do I deserve it?' No. Never. He must have read it on my face, because he asked, 'Do you forgive me- for your mother and sister?' 'I don't recall every hearing an apology.' As if an apology would ever right it. As if an apology would ever cover the loss that still ate at me, the hole that remained where their bright, lovely lives had once glowed. 'I don't think one will make a difference, anyway,' Tamlin said, staring at his felled elk once more. 'For either of you.' Broken. Utterly broken. You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled, Lucien had warned my mate. Perhaps that was why I'd come, too. I waved a hand, my magic slicing and sundering, and the elk's coat slid to the floor in a rasp of fur and slap of wet flesh. Another flicker of power, and slabs of meat had been carved from its sides, piled next to the dark stove- which soon kindled. 'Eat, Tamlin,' I said. He didn't so much as blink. It was not forgiveness- it was not kindness. I could not, would not, ever forget what he'd done to those I loved most. But it was Solstice, or had been. And perhaps because Feyre had given me a gift greater than any I could dream of, I said, 'You can waste away and die after we've sorted out this new world of ours.' A pulse of my power, and an iron skillet slid onto the now-hot stove, a steak of meat thumping into it with a sizzle. 'Eat, Tamlin,' I repeated, and vanished on a dark wind.” — Sarah J. Maas