Arras

“Tell me, Eadaz uq-Nāra,” she said softly, “am I a greater fool to want you still?” Ead crossed the space between them. “No more a fool than I,” she said, “to love you as I do.”
― Samantha Shannon, The Priory of the Orange Tree

“The silence of the Great Bedchamber was vast. Vast as night and all its stars. Ead heard each rustle of silk, each brush of hand on skin on sheets. Their breaths were hushed, held in anticipation of a knock on the door, a key in the lock, and a torch to bare their union. It would light a flame of scandal, and the fire would rise until it scorched them both. But Ead called fire her friend, and she would plunge into the furnace for Sabran Berethnet, for just one night with her. Let them come with their swords and their torches. Let them come.”
― Samantha Shannon, The Priory of the Orange Tree

“Tell me the truth of it, Ead. Was it your own choice to sleep with me last night, or did you feel compelled because of my rank?”

Her hair was a tangle about her shoulders. Ead softened.

“Fool,” she said. “I would not be compelled by you or anyone. Have I not always given you the truth?”

Sabran smiled at that. “Too much of it,” she said. “You are the only one who does.”

Ead leaned in to kiss her brow, but before she could, Sabran caught her face in her hands and pressed her parted lips to hers. When they broke apart a last, Sabran smiled a true smile, rare as a desert rose.

“Come.” Ead draped the mantle over her shoulders. “I would see you walk under the sun today.”
― Samantha Shannon, The Priory of the Orange Tree

“Some sorcerers get an affinity for weather magic, or transformation spells, or fantastic combat magics like dear Orion. I got an affinity for mass destruction.”
― Naomi Novik, A Deadly Education