Liz Adkins

“Then the royal party arrived. She didn't know where to look; at the King of Adarlan, at the small, too-familiar prison wagon in the center of the riders... Or at Dorian, riding at his father's side, that black collar around his neck and nothing human in his face.”
― Sarah J. Maas

“The world kept slipping out from underneath Chaol's feet, so much so that he grabbed a handful of dirt just to remember where he was and that this was real, not some nightmare. Dorian. His friend; unharmed, but--but not Dorian. Not even close to Dorian, as the prince smirked at that beautiful, white-haired witch. The face was the same, but the soul gazing out of those sapphire eyes had not been created in this world.
Chaol squeezed the dirt harder. He had run. He had run from Dorian, and let this happen. It hadn't been hope that he carried when he fled, but stupidity. Aelin had been right. It would be a mercy to kill him.”
― Sarah J. Maas

“I'm not leaving you. Not again."
Dorian's mouth tightened. "You never left me, Chaol." He shook his head once, sending tears slipping down his face. "You never left me.”
― Sarah J. Maas

“Behind her, the Fae warrior observed every flicker of movement. He'd be the deadly one--the one to look out for. It had been fifty years since she'd fought a Fae warrior. Bedded him, then fought him. He'd left the bones of her arm in pieces. She'd just left him in pieces. But he had been young, and arrogant, and barely trained. This male... He might very well be capable of killing at least a few of her Thirteen if she so much as harmed a hair on the queen's head.”
― Sarah J. Maas