Tricia

“I always feared you would become like your true mother,” Rawain said. “I stayed vigilant for what you might have inherited from Hanim. In my worst nightmares, I never thought you would take after Isra. As weak and—” “Weak is not a mother who throws herself between a boy with none of her blood and the wrath of the man who made him.” Arin wiped the blood dripping onto his lashes. “Weak is a ruler who holds a match to the world and then blames it for burning.”
― Sara Hashem, The Jasad Crown

“Which is more intricate?” he mused. “The designs of men, trying to reach gods, or that of gods, trying to reach men?” My hammer collided with a chunk of granite. “What is either to the intricacies of women, who reach both?”
― Rachel Gillig, The Knight and the Moth

“Not that she didn’t intend to save herself, but a girl does like to have someone waiting in the wings, wanting to rescue her.”
― India Holton, The Ornithologist's Field Guide to Love

“Why hadn’t they told him that love was not a soft and gentle wind, but a storm determined to rip you apart and build its home in the wreckage? That it brought with it uninvited guests, new fears and worries and paranoias beyond the reach of any reason.
How in those early days, before he knew what was happening, he would lose his breath at the thought of a future without her. A future where the guests would be gone, but so would his new home. The home she had carved inside him, where the air smelled like her hair and the bells sounded like her laugh. A place where he could rest until he was old and weary, where he could only sleep with his hand settled over her heart, because even so many years later, that steady pulse was the only pillar Arin would ever lean on.
Death, he learned, did not change anything. It didn’t destroy their home; it simply barred Arin from entering. It meant years waiting on the steps.”
― Sara Hashem, The Jasad Crown