Chloe Ho

“I’m going to go back and stop your son from killing her.”
The queen’s face fell. For a moment, she looked as old as the years she’d spent lying in a suspended state. “That is not a small mistake to fix. If you do this, Time will take something equally valuable from you.”
The Fate gave the queen a look more vicious than any curse. “There is nothing of equal value to me.”
― Stephanie Garber, The Ballad of Never After

“She’s pretty, but her face doesn’t transform into sunlight when she talks about music.” He did that clench thing with his jaw and said, “She’s funny, but not spit-out-your-drink-in-astonishment funny.” It felt like my heart was going to explode as his eyes moved down to my lips under the glow of the buzzing streetlight. He moved his face a little closer to mine, looked into my eyes, and rumbled, “And when I see her, I don’t feel like I have to talk to her or mess up her hair or do something—anything—to get her to swing that gaze on me.”
― Lynn Painter, Better Than the Movies

“I used to fear it
meant that I had no real choices. Then I secretly hoped fate was real and
that you and I were fated, that by some miraculous chance I was your true
love. But now I don’t care if fate is real—because I don’t need it to decide
for me. I don’t need it to make this choice. I’ve made my decision, Jacks.
It’s you. It will always be you, until the end of time. And I’ll fight fate or
anyone else who tries to tear us apart- including you. You are my choice.
You are my love. You are mine. And you are not going to be the end of me,
Jacks.”
― Stephanie Garber, A Curse for True Love

“Kaz snagged her wrist. "Inej." His gloved thumb moved over her pulse, traced the top of the feather tattoo. "If we don't make it out, I want you to know..."
She waited. She felt hope rustling its wings inside her, ready to take flight at the right words from Kaz. She willed that hope in to stillness. Those words would never come. The heart is an arrow.
She reached up and touched his cheek. She thought he might flinch again, even knock her hand away. In nearly two years of battling side by side with Kaz, of late-night scheming, impossible heists, clandestine errands, and harried meals of fried potatoes and hutspot gobbled down as they rushed from one place to another, this was the first time she had touched him skin to skin, without the barrier of gloves or coat or shirtsleeve. She let her hand cup his cheek. His skin was cool and damp from the rain. He stayed still, but she saw a tremor pass through him, as if he were waging a war with himself.
"If we don't die this night, I will die unafraid, Kaz. Can you say the same?"
His eyes were nearly black, the pupils dilated. She could see it took every last bit of his terrible will for him to remain still beneath her touch. And yet, he did not pull away. She knew it was the best he could offer. It was not enough.
She dropped her hand. He took a deep breath.
Kaz had said he didn't want her prayers and she wouldn't speak them, but she wished him safe nonetheless. She had her aim now, her heart had direction, and though it hurt to know that path led away from him, she could endure it.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows