Bella Flores

“Good idea. I could use a snack.” Andarna’s tone is indecently excited. “We do not eat our allies,” Tairn lectures. “You never let me have any fun.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Iron Flame

“Scratch her eyes out,” Andarna suggests. “Really. The eyes are the softest tissue. Just jab your thumbs in there—”

“Andarna! Use some common sense,” Tairn snaps. “The kneecaps are a much easier target.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Iron Flame

“Violet Sorrengail,' she whispers, moving closer. 'Are you wearing Riorson's flight jacket?'

Liam's head snaps in my direction, curse his stupidly good hearing.

'Why would you say that?' I do a shitty job of feigning shock and shove the sheaths into every available pocket in this thing. All three of them, which are considerably deeper than the ones in my own jacket.

'Oh, I don't know. Because it's huge on you and there are three stars right here?' She taps where there's only one star on her uniform.

Well, shit. Just goes to show that neither of us was thinking clearly.

'It could be any third-year's.' I shrug.

'With a Fourth Wing shield on the shoulder?' She cocks an eyebrow.

'That does limit it a bit,' I agree.

'And a wingleader emblem beneath those stars?' she teases.

'Fine, it's his.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“His fingers tangle in my hair. “I fucking love your hair. If you ever want to bring me to my knees or win an argument, just let it down. I’ll get the point.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing