Tyra

“Tell me what you want,” she said, “and I will make it happen.”
I want my liar, I thought.
I want her mouth.
I want her perfume to rub off on my skin like bruised grass.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Midnight Lie

“Don't die in a bone. I am your creature, gloom mistress. I serve you with fidelity as big as a mountain, penumbral lady."
Harrow's eyes flickered open. "Stop."
"I am your sworn sword, night boss."
"Fine," said Harrow heavily.
Gideon's mouth was about to round out the words "bone empress" before she realised what had been said.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth

“But Gideon was experiencing one powerful emotion: being sick of everyone's shit. She unsheathed her sword. She slid her gauntlet over her hand, and tightened the wrist straps with her teeth. And she looked over her shoulder at Harrowhark, who was apparently breaking out of a blue funk to experience her own dominant emotion of "oh no, not again." Gideon silently willed her necromancer to put her knucklebones where her mouth was and, for the first time in her life - for the first real time - do what Gideon needed her to do.

And Harrowhark rose to the occasion like an evening star.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth

“It frightens me how much I like it,” Celia finishes, turning her face back to his. “How tempting it is to lose myself in you. To let go. To let you keep me from breaking chandeliers rather than constantly worrying about it, myself.”
― Erin Morgenstern, The Night Circus