Nestillia

“He steeples his long fingers. “Someday, I will ask your king for a favor.”

“You want me to agree to something without even knowing what it is?” I blurt out.

His stoic face gives little away. “Now we understand each other exactly.”

I nod. What choice do I have? “Something of equal value,” I clarify. “And within our power.”

“This has been a most interesting meeting,” Lord Roiben says with a small, inscrutable smile.

As I stand to leave, Kaye winks an inkdrop eye at me. “Luck, mortal.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“At seventeen, he has grown tall, towering over me, lithe and finely muscled. His hair catches the moonlight, warm gold threaded with platinum, bangs parting around small goat horns, eyes of shocking amber, and a constellation of freckles across his nose. He has a trickster's mouth and the swagger of someone used to people doing what he wanted.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“He looks up at me with his night-colored eyes, beautiful and terrible all at once. “For a moment,” he says, “I wondered if it wasn’t you shooting bolts at me.”

I make a face at him. “And what made you decide it wasn’t?”

He grins up at me. “They missed.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“I can't help feeling humiliated for Ithal. He stands at the wall and watches us go, and when we reach the turnoff for the school, he's still there with the mangled flower in his hands, far behind us a small, dying star fading out of our constellation.”
― Libba Bray, A Great and Terrible Beauty