Rania

“Meeting you was a disaster.”
She raised a brow. “Thank you.”
Djel, he was terrible at this. He stumbled on, trying to make her understand. “But I am grateful for that disaster. I needed a catastrophe to shake me from the life I knew. You were an earthquake, a landslide.”
“I,” she said, planting a hand on her hip, “am a delicate flower.”
“You aren’t a flower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“As they split to prepare for the meeting with the Ravkans, Jesper followed Wylan down the hall. “Hey.”
Wylan kept going.
Jesper jogged past him and cut off his path, walking backward. “Listen, this thing with Kuwei isn’t a thing.” He tried again. “There is no thing with Kuwei.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m the one who interrupted.”
“No, you didn’t! Kuwei was sitting at the piano. It was an understandable mistake.”
Wylan stopped short. “You thought he was me?”
“Yes!” Jesper said. “See? Just a big mis—”
Wylan’s gold eyes flashed. “You really can’t tell us apart?”
“I … I mean, usually I can, but—”
“We’re nothing alike,” Wylan said indignantly. “He’s not even that good at science! Half his notebooks are full of doodles. Mostly of you. And those aren’t good either.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“Jesper shrugged again. He adjusted the buttons on his shirt, touched his thumbs to his revolvers. When he felt like this, mad and scattered, it was as if his hands had a life of their own. His whole body itched. He needed to get out of this room.
Wylan laid his hand on Jesper’s shoulder. “Stop.”
Jesper didn’t know if he wanted to jerk away or pull him closer.
“Just stop,” Wylan said. “Breathe.” Wylan’s gaze was steady.
Jesper couldn’t look away from that clear-water blue. He forced himself to still, inhaled, exhaled.
“Again,” Wylan said, and when Jesper opened his mouth to take another breath, Wylan leaned forward and kissed him. Jesper’s mind emptied. He wasn’t thinking of what had happened before or what might happen next. There was only the reality of Wylan’s mouth, the press of his lips, then the fine bones of his neck, the silky feel of his curls as Jesper cupped his nape and drew him nearer.
This was the kiss he’d been waiting for. It was a gunshot. It was prairie fire. It was the spin of Makker’s Wheel. Jesper felt the pounding of his heart—or was it Wylan’s?—like a stampede in his chest, and the only thought in his head was a happy, startled, Oh.
Slowly, inevitably, they broke apart. “Wylan,” Jesper said, looking into the wide blue sky of his eyes, “I really hope we don’t die.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

“She went up on tiptoe, and that easily, her mouth was against his. It was barely a kiss—just a quick, startling press of her lips.
Before she could even think of moving away, he had hold of her. He knew he was probably doing everything wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry, because she was in his arms, her lips were parting, her hands were twining around his neck, and sweet Djel, her tongue was in his mouth. No wonder Fjerdans were so cautious about courtship. If Matthias could be kissing Nina, feeling her nip at his lip with her clever teeth, feel her body fitted against his own, hear her release that little sigh in the back of her throat, why would he ever bother doing anything else? Why would anyone?”
― Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom