Brandy Cooper

“There is no friend as loyal as a book.”
― Ernest Hemingway

“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
― Elbert Hubbard

“It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all—in which case, you fail by default.”
― J.K. Rowling

“Her eyes were the brown of a fawn's coat. And he could have sworn something sparked in them as she met his gaze.

'Who are you?'

He knew without demanding clarification that she was aware of what he was to her.

'I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.'

And a whole lot of nothing.
...
For a long moment, Elain's face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. 'Lucien,' she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth. 'From my sister's stories. Her friend.'

'Yes.'

But Elain blinked slowly. 'You were in Hybern.'

'Yes.' It was all he could say.

'You betrayed us.'

He wished she'd shoved him out the window behind her. 'It- it was a mistake.'

Her eyes were frank and cold. 'I was to be married in a few days.'

He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who'd claimed her and shred him apart. The words were a rasp as he instead said, 'I know. I'm sorry.'

She did not love him, want him, need him. Another male's bride.

A mortal man's wife. Or she would have been.

She looked away- toward the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly.

He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth.

'When I sleep,' she murmured, 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. 'Can you hear mine?'

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, 'No, lady. I cannot.'

Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. 'No one ever does. No one ever looked- not really.' A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. 'He did. He saw me. He will not now.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin