Aryana

“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

“Lifetime. Anything less is unacceptable.” Xaden slides his hand to the back of my neck. “And her full name for the papers is Violet Sorrengail. Two Rs.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Onyx Storm

“Should I get the Wingleader?”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“A contract marriage would be most wise,” Nairi agrees with a nod, ignoring Garrick’s words. “We could have the legalities performed in the morning at temple, and then hear what will, no doubt, be a plea for our assistance in their war tomorrow afternoon.” Wood creaks behind me. “Draw up the papers,” Xaden says, gripping my chair. Bile rises in my throat. What the fuck is he doing? Cat’s head snaps in our direction, Mira and Garrick both gawk, and Aaric continues eating. I want the damned bond back now. “Ah, there we go!” Faris claps twice. “What an excellent decision. Shall we go with three or four years?” “Lifetime. Anything less is unacceptable.” Xaden slides his hand to the back of my neck. “And her full name for the papers is Violet Sorrengail. Two Rs.” I’m torn between throwing a dagger at his chest and kissing the shit out of him. Mira stifles a grin. “My last name is tied to the title, but we could take yours,” Xaden offers, and his eyes soften just slightly when they lock on mine. “You could hyphenate,” Garrick suggests. “Or combine? Riorgail? Sorrenson?” “That is not what they meant,” I whisper at Xaden.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Onyx Storm