Cassandra Hale

“I want you to know my name,” he said. “The name I was given, not the title I took for myself. Will you have it, Alina?”
I could feel the weight of Nikolai’s ring in my palm back at the Spinning Wheel. I didn’t have to stand here in the Darkling’s arms. I could vanish from his grip, slide back into consciousness and the safety of a stone room hidden in a mountaintop. But I didn’t want to go. Despite everything, I wanted this whispered confidence.
“Yes,” I breathed.
After a long moment, he said, “Aleksander.”
A little laugh escaped me. He arched a brow, a smile tugging at his lips. “What?”
“It’s just so … common.” Such an ordinary name, held by kings and peasants alike. I’d known two Aleksanders at Keramzin alone, three in the First Army. One of them had died on the Fold.
His smile deepened and he cocked his head to the side. It almost hurt to see him this way. “Will you say it?” he asked.
I hesitated, feeling danger crowd in on me.
“Aleksander,” I whispered.
His grin faded, and his gray eyes seemed to flicker.
“Again,” he said.
“Aleksander.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ruin and Rising

“He slumped back in his chair. "Fine," he said with a weary shrug. "Make me your villain.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone

“The problem with wanting," he whispered, his mouth trailing along my jaw until it hovered over my lips, "is that it makes us weak." And then, at last, when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, he brought his mouth down on mine.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone

“There are rumors that your Lantsov prince has been sighted.”
I drifted nearer, trying to keep my voice casual. “Where?”
He glanced up, his lips curling in a slight smile. “Do you like him?”
“Does it matter?”
“It’s harder when you like them. You mourn them more.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ruin and Rising