Joanna

“I’ve bought a town house,” said Oswald. “In Aphrany. A huge black and white timbered monstrosity. The kind a very rich merchant lives in.”
“Why in god’s name?” asked Mason.
“Because Fenella once said she likes them,” said Oswald. “In a purely throw-away conversation. But for some reason, every word she speaks is seared on my brain.”
Roland cleared his throat. “Bit impulsive for you, isn’t it?”
“A bit?” echoed Oswald. “I forced the King to sign annulment papers to an eight-year marriage. Simply because I feel sick to my stomach at the idea of her ever belonging to another man. And the worst of it is, that the annulment is the least drastic course of action that occurred to me. For the last three months, in my head I have been drawing up legal papers to sue Thane for the eight years he spent at my wife’s side, masquerading in my rightful place. In her life, in her heart and in her bed.” He heard his voice shake with anger and realized his brothers must too. Taking a deep breath, he continued more evenly. “Each time I mentally draft the petition, I request a more severe punishment befitting of his crime.”
“What kind of punishments?” asked Mason with interest, sitting back in his seat.
Oswald blew out a shaky breath. “In the latest version, it was beheading.”
― Alice Coldbreath, His Forsaken Bride

“Tonight, I get to sleep in luxury at least. Come here, my pretty," I tell a pillow, and tuck it under my face. Oh man, this is heaven. "I'm going to be sad to leave you all behind tomorrow. Shhh, don't cry." I stroke a pillow. "I will remember you in my dreams."

  Aron snorts.

  "Oh, what's that?" I tell the pillow, still pretending to have a conversation. "Aron's a dick? I know, right? I'm not sure why he's so against you either, considering this is his tent. Well, not his tent, but Bad Aron's tent. It's okay, though." I pet the pillow one more time and fight a yawn. "If you love something, set it free and all that. You'll be free in the morning, pillow. Just right after I'm done with you.”
― Ruby Dixon, Bound to the Battle God

“I'm pregnant," I blurt.
He stares at me. "With a baby."
I slap his chest. "No, with a fucking roasted chicken. Yes, with a baby!”
― Ruby Dixon, Bound to the Battle God

“This is... you're certain, Faith?" When I nod, his face splits into a boyish grin. "A child."
"Or a roasted chicken. You guess which one.”
― Ruby Dixon, Bound to the Battle God