Jonalyn Bautista

“Radu stretched his fingers, reaching toward Mehmed, touching just the hem of his tunic. Behind Mehmed, he saw a group of Janissaries running toward them.

Radu smiled his best, most innocent smile. The smile without guile, the smile that said, Tell me your secrets, no harm will come, the smile that said, There is nothing more to me than what you see, trust me, trust me. “What I want does not matter. What matters is preparing the way for you to be the sultan we both know you can be. You will be the hand of God on Earth, and I will do whatever I can to see that come to pass.”
― Kiersten White, And I Darken

“You do not seem to be taking much joy in your victory,” Radu said.

“Ah, yes, my victory.” Skanderberg bared his teeth, holding his arms wide. “I remain lord of a broken and burned land, my coffers empty, my people sick, my fields destroyed. And yet my pride remains intact! My damnable pride and my people’s freedom will not fill their bellies this long coming winter. Some victories are merely defeat wearing the wrong clothing.” He spat on the ground.”
― Kiersten White, And I Darken

“Lada furiously scrubbed the blood from her nightclothes.

As she did, she cursed her mother, for making her a girl.

She cursed her father, for leaving her here.

And she cursed her own body, for leaving her so vulnerable.

She was so busy with a stream of cursing that she did not hear the door open.

“Oh,” said the maid, a girl fragile and darting as a bird.

Lada looked up in horror. Evidence of her womanhood draped over her hands, the red an undeniable testament. She had been caught. An image of herself crawling and weeping swept through her mind. That was what a wife was. What a wife did.

And now this maid, this spy, knew she was old enough to be a wife.

With a scream, Lada jumped on the maid, hitting her around the head. The maid dropped to the floor, bracing against the blows and crying out. Lada did not stop. She hit and kicked and bit, all while screaming obscenities in every language available to her.

Arms pulled at her, a voice she knew pleading desperately, but she did not stop. She could not stop. This was the end of her last shred of freedom, all because of the prying eyes of a maid.”
― Kiersten White, And I Darken

“Mehmed shook his head. “He is with my father. I saw him but once. He commands a small group directly under the sultan.”

“Then it could be anyone. I am no favorite of your father’s, or of Halil Pasha’s, or any number of men. My absence would not be mourned.”

“I would mourn it. Every moment of every day.”

“Did you?”

Mehmed’s eyes were heavy with longing. “I did.”

She turned away. “I was going to leave.”

He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. “I forbid it.”

“You can forbid me nothing.” But it sounded hollow and forced when she said it. She had spent the last week knowing exactly her value without him. It was a stolen horse, a single loyal friend, and a bleak and difficult future.

He moved from her hair to her ear, trailing his lips along it. Her body responded despite her resolve to be angry, to punish him.

He still wanted her. And she knew now what a fleeting and precious thing it was for a woman to be wanted in any way that made her important. She had been ready to run when she had lost this, but now…

She would never admit it to Nicolae, could barely admit it to herself, but she would stay for Mehmed. She would stay for the way she felt when his mouth or eyes were on her. And she would stay for the power it gave her.

His lips found hers, and she kissed him back with a determined ferocity. She touched him everywhere, his face, his hair, his shoulders, his hands, because he was here, and he was alive, and it was the first time that a man she loved had come back for her. She did not have to lose the life she had built here, the threads of safety and power she had. She had not lost him.

“Say you are mine.” He trailed his lips down her neck. She arched into him, digging her fingers into his back.

“I am yours,” she whispered. The words cut like knives, barely out of her mouth before he stole them, sealing them with his own lips.”
― Kiersten White, And I Darken