Rachael Jakubowski

“Bastian’s carelessness was artificial, a façade built to keep anyone from knowing just how much he cared. She still remembered the lightning-quick way he’d changed that night in the alley, how the lazy air of entitlement had fallen away like a discarded cloak. So many layers, so much crafted, careful nonchalance. Bastian was drowning in it, but he didn’t fool her, though the weak points she’d seen were only hairline cracks in the armor he’d forged over years.
It reminded her of herself. How she’d been Night-Sister-Lore, and then poison-runner-Lore and now spy-Lore, each a new persona she’d eased into, a different shell to wear. When she thought about what might be left when all that artifice was stripped away, she came up blank. Like all the things that made her were window dressings on an empty house.”
― Hannah F. Whitten, The Foxglove King

“I’m jealous that his actions never seem to have consequences, when I’m carrying the consequences of an entire family.”
― Hannah F. Whitten, The Foxglove King

“And the two of you know Lore how?”
Bastian didn’t falter at all beneath Val’s shrewd eye. “We’ve been helping her in the Citadel,” he said, skirting close to the truth without revealing it. Then, with a wry smile, “Us outsiders have to stick together, my lady.”
“Don’t my lady me.” Val’s eyes swung from Bastian to Lore, calculating. “If Lore trusts you, so will I. But something easily given is easily taken away, and if you put so much as a toe out of line, I will cut it off.”
“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Bastian replied. “All appendages will stay exactly where you want them.”
― Hannah F. Whitten, The Foxglove King

“But I’ll admit that I’m jealous.” He huffed a rueful laugh. “I’m jealous that his actions never seem to have consequences, when I’m carrying the consequences of an entire family. I’m jealous that it would take a miracle for him to be left alone with nothing, when everything was taken from me in an instant.”
― Hannah F. Whitten, The Foxglove King