Ari Nathara

“I feel Sel’s gaze on the back of my neck, on my cheek, before I hear his voice.
“Mae hi’n brydferth.”
“What?” I ask. Nick turns when I do, just as confused. Arthur’s memories don’t recognize modern Welsh, and I only know a little. I do recognize the words for “she” and “beautiful” though.
Or maybe Nick isn’t just as confused as me, because a slow, laughing smile spreads across his face, like he understands Sel’s game already. He leans a hip against the wall to watch me beside his Kingsmage, eyes teasing. “Ydi, mae hi. Yn dragwyddol.”
Maybe that last word was “forever.”
“Beautiful forever”? No, “always”? I flush, then pout.
“Because of Arthur, I’m only fluent in Old Welsh, not modern. You know this isn’t fair.”
“We know,” they respond together, and laugh.”
― Tracy Deonn, Bloodmarked

“The unsaid thing about funerals is that directly after the communal mourning for someone you love, after everyone is gone and the connected grief dispersed, comes a solitude beyond imagining. A great, gaping nothing where a whole person and life and future used to be. The other side of a funeral is abyss.”
― Tracy Deonn, Bloodmarked

“Maeve extended a hand before her, darkness swirling in her cupped palm. “There are no gods left to watch, I’m afraid. And there are no gods left to help you now, Aelin Galathynius.” Aelin smiled, and Goldryn burned brighter. “I am a god.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Kingdom of Ash

“But grief isn’t a competition. It’s not an identical pain that we all meet one day when death finds us. It’s a monster, personalized by our love and memories to devour us just so. Grief is suffering, tailored.”
― Tracy Deonn, Bloodmarked