Ceridwenn

“The Calamitous Coven.” “No.” “Eve’s Army.” “No! It ought to be about, I don’t know, sisterhood or union—” “The Ladies Union of Giving the Bastards What’s Coming to Them.”
― Alix E. Harrow, The Once and Future Witches

“If I ever decide to give my heart to you, Dima, she’d said, holding his hand palm up, then cut it out of my chest and keep it somewhere safe, where no one else can get to it. Keep it locked somewhere, she murmured, repeating the old stories as she brushed her lips against the lines of his palm: Inside a needle, inside of an egg, which is inside of a duck, which is inside a hare, which is in an iron chest—and then bury it under our green oak tree, Dima, where no one will ever find it.

Keep it safe for me, Dima, will you?”
― Olivie Blake, One for My Enemy

“Write me a tragedy, Lev Fedorov,” she whispered to him. “Write me a litany of sins. Write me a plague of devastation. Write me lonely, write me wanting, write me shattered and fearful and lost. Then write me finding myself in your arms, if only for a night, and then write it again. Write it over and over, Lev, until we both know the pages by heart. Isn’t that a story, too?” she asked him softly.”
― Olivie Blake, One for My Enemy

“Oh. It’s you,” she said, the words and the unenthusiastic tone that went with them dropping off her tongue like a lead weight. Hart resisted the urge to grind his molars into a fine powder. “Most people start with hello.” “Hello, Hart-ache,” she sighed. “Hello, Merciless.”
― Megan Bannen, The Undertaking of Hart and Mercy