Tess

“I'll tell you a story, I whispered. It always helped me sleep as a child.
He nodded, folding his hands over his lap, and closed his eyes.
There once was a girl, clever and good, who tarried in shadow in the depths of the wood. There also was a King, a shepherd by his crook, who reigned over magic and wrote the old book. The two were together, so the two-
I couldn't go on.
Elspeth.
No. I'm not ready. Not yet.
Finish the story, dear one.
My voice shook. The two were together-
Together.
So the two were the same.
The girl, he whispered, honey and oil and silk.
The King...
We said the final words together, our voices echoing, listless, through the dark. A final note. An eternal farewell. And the monster they became.”
― Rachel Gillig, Two Twisted Crowns

“The moon on a bracelet and the sun in a jar... We really wreak havoc on the heavens, don't we?”
― Laini Taylor, Strange the Dreamer

“You make even the stars envious,” I repeat softly, leaning toward her. “Because one day—far from now—you will be up there beside them, outshining every single one.”
― Lauren Roberts, Powerful

“At last, he lifted his face from his sleeves and wiped furiously at his eyes. His voice was still broken as he said, 'I should have you beheaded for seeing me like this.'
It was another flat attempt to get me afraid of him—or perhaps merely a force of habit. But I knew the threat did not have his heart behind it. 'Is that so?'
'Beheaded and worse.'
'Terren, it is not a weakness to be seen.'
There were no knives between us now, no fear, not even enough distance for a sparrow to spread its wings. I looked into his eyes, and though they were older and meaner, there was no question they were the same ones as on the boy I’d seen in the meadow. I looked into them and I saw him.
Maybe it was possible to love somebody that one hated.
Maybe, buried heart-deep, I really did love him. Not the kind of love a wife shared with her husband—that was not possible, after all he’d done to me; I might have borne no scars, but my body still remembered—but the kind of love one human could not help but feel for another when they had to pry away blades to find them.
I did not know what else to call it, if not love.”
― Shen Tao, The Poet Empress