Chamomile

“We do not bend. And we definitely do not blend.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Iron Flame

“Well, there’s rough with the smooth. They say we all go back to the egg in the end and get hatched anew, so maybe Feather and I will meet again in our next life.”
― K.C. Shaw, Royal Red

“I close the door behind me, then focus on the lock and turn my hand in midair, channeling just enough power to hear the bolt slide home with a satisfying click.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Iron Flame

“Rose thought about the fair while she ate. It was a light-hearted festival in the daytime, with children running about, awful food, ridiculous games, overpriced stalls full of things no one needed but everyone bought, and music. As evening progressed, it became more and more raucous. Those who wanted to choose a mate spent time milling about, flirting in a way that would be outrageous any other time of the year. There was a matchmaking service run by the hatchery to raise funds, and a raffle to bid for particularly attractive mates. By midnight it was guaranteed to devolve into an animalistic spectacle. Inhibitions fell so low that couples would mate in full view, drawing crowds of voyeurs. “I’m leaving for my trip tomorrow,” Rose said. “I’ll have the sky to myself.” “Everyone else will be fucking,” Blossom said agreeably”
― K.C. Shaw, Royal Red