Kiara

“Because love, at its root, is hope. Hope for tomorrow. Hope for what could be. Hope that the someone you’ve entrusted your everything to will cradle and protect it. And hope? That shit is harder to kill than a dragon.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Iron Flame

“Should I get the Wingleader?”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“You could have ruled the world with your power,' he said carefully.

'I don't want to rule the world.' Her eyes were unguarded in a way he had never seen. Mate, she had called him.

'What do you want?' Cassian managed to ask, voice rasping.

She smiled, and damn if it wasn't the loveliest thing he'd ever seen. 'You.'

'You've had me from the moment you met me.'

She tucked a strand of hair behind an arched ear. 'I know.'

He brushed a kiss over her mouth. But Nesta said, 'I want a disgustingly ornate mating ceremony.

He laughed, pulling away. 'Really?'

'Why not?'

'Because I'll never hear the end of it from Azriel and Mor.' Or the Illyrians.

Nesta considered. Then pulled something out of her pocket. A small biscuit, swiped from a tray in the birthing room. 'Then here. Food. From me to you, my mate. That's the official ritual, isn't it? The sharing of food from one mate to the other?'

He choked. 'These are my two options? A frilly mating ceremony or a stale biscuit?'

Her face filled with such true light, it nearly stole the breath from him. 'Yes.'

So Cassian laughed again, and folded her fingers around the pathetic biscuit, leaning to whisper in her ear, 'We'll make a coronation of it, Nes.'

'I already have a crown,' she said. 'I just want you.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Fuck, Lyra. You ask the world.”
“Only because I know you can give it.”
― Abigail Owen, The Things Gods Break