Francesca

“For a life of the kind you and I have never known and will never know— quiet, peace, the surety of love.”
“There is nothing sure about love. Do you think love will protect you when the Fjerdans come to capture the Stormwitch?”
She didn’t. But maybe she wanted to believe there was more to life than fear and being feared.
She yanked down the shade and tapped the roof. The coach travelled on, up the cramped cart track in slow switchbacks. At last, they rattled to a stop.
“Stay here,” she said, hooking his shackles to the seat. She descended from the coach, closing the door behind her. Mal and Alina stood on the sanatorium’s stairs, but when Alina saw Zoya, she smiled and raced down the steps with arms open. Zoya blinked away an embarrassing prickle of tears. She hadn’t known how Alina might greet her, given the circumstances. She let herself be hugged. As always, Ravka’s Saint smelled of paint and pine.
“Is he in there?” Alina asked.
“He is.”
“You bring me the worst gifts.”
The tabby had returned from its sojourn and was twining through Misha’s legs. It padded over to Zoya. “Hello, Oncat,” she murmured, hefting the cat into her arms and feeling the comforting rumble of its purr.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Rule of Wolves