Sandra Ivanova

“This life is over. Maybe I'll be smarter in the next one."
I snorted. "We'll see. We're going to have to choose new names, you know."
"Misha is already making a list of suggestions."
"Oh, Saints."
"You have nothing to complain about. Apparently I am to be Dmitri Dumkin."
"Suits you."
"I should warn you that I'm keeping a tab of all your insults so that I can reward you when I'm healed."
"Easy with the threats, Dumkin. Maybe I'll tell the Apparat all about your miraculous recovery, and he'll turn you into a Saint too."
"He can try," said Mal. "I don't intend to waste my days in holy pursuits."
"No?"
"No," he said as he drew me closer. "I have to spend the rest of my life finding ways to deserve a certain white-haired girl. She's very prickly, occasionally puts goose dropping in my shoes or tries to kill me."
"Sounds fatiguing," I managed as his lips met mine.
"She's worth it. And one day maybe she'll let me chase her into a chapel."
I shuddered. "I don't like chapels."
"I did tell Ana Kuya I would marry you."
I laughed. "You remember that?"
"Alina," he said and kissed the scar on my palm, "I remember everything.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ruin and Rising

“The news coming out of Os Alta was still a tangle, and we hadn't had word of Misha's mother yet. I knew he must be hopeful, but he hadn't said a word about it, just solemnly vowed to watch over Mal in my absence.
"Read him religious parables," I whispered to Misha. "He loves that."
I barely dodged the pillow Mal threw across the room.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ruin and Rising

“It seems to work better than jabbing them with a stick," he said.

"Less fun."

"My jabbing arm is tired.”
― Leigh Bardugo