Mary

“… and best of all, the wilderness of books, in which she could wander where she liked, made the library a region of bliss to her. Louisa May Alcott, Little Women”
― Jojo Moyes, The Giver of Stars

“Because it was all you were willing to give me. And I’d rather have you hating me than not have you at all.”
― Elena Armas, The Spanish Love Deception

“Are the Trials starting?” The girl claps her hands over her mouth. “I'm sorry,” she whispers. “I—”

“It's all right.” I don't smile at her. It will only scare her. For a female slave, a smile from a Mask is not usually a good thing. “I'm actually wondering the same thing. What's your name?”

“S-slave-Girl.” Of course. My mother would already have scourged her name out of existence.

“Right. You work for the Commandant?” I want her to say no. I want her to say that my mother roped her into this. I want her to say she's assigned to the kitchens or infirmary, where slaves aren't scarred or missing body parts.

But the girl nods in response to my question. Don't let my mother break you, I think. The girl meets my eyes, and there is that feeling again, low and hot and consuming. Don't be weak. Fight. Escape.

A gust of wind whips a strand free from her bun and across her cheekbone. Defiance flashes across her face as she holds my gaze, and for a second, I see my own desire for freedom mirrored, intensified in her eyes. It's something I've never detected in the eyes of a fellow student, let alone a Scholar slave. For one strange moment, I feel less alone.

But then she looks down, and I wonder at my own naiveté. She can't fight. She can't scape. Not from Blackcliff. I smile joylessly; in this, at least, the slave and I are more similar than she'll ever know.”
― Sabaa Tahir, An Ember in the Ashes

“He turned to me, mischief glinting in his eyes. “How
do they celebrate good fortune in Bharata? In Ujijain, we kiss.”
“Look elsewhere.”
“Are you sure? You spend an awful amount of time looking at my
lips.”
“That’s only because I’m horrified at the sheer idiocy of the words
leaping out of them.”
― Roshani Chokshi, A Crown of Wishes