Brooke

“I like girls too, Scrivener.” Amusement danced in Nathaniel’s eyes. “I like both. If you’re going to fantasize about my love life, I insist you do so accurately.”
― Margaret Rogerson, Sorcery of Thorns

“Scrivener," he sighed. "I should have known it was you the moment I heard my great-grandmother's priceless antique vase hit the floor." He turned his assessing gaze to the Malefict. "And who's this? A friend of yours?"

The Codex bared a mouthful of fangs and produced an ear-splitting shriek. Above them, the chandelier trembled.

"Charmed," Nathaniel said. He turned back to Elisabeth. "If the two of you feel the need to destroy anything else, I've been meaning to get rid of Aunt Clothilde's tapestry for years. You'll know it when you see it. It's mauve.”
― Margaret Rogerson, Sorcery of Thorns

“Nathaniel looked at her sidelong. "Scrivener, I know I cut a devilishly handsome figure lying here on the floor all covered in blood----which I hear some girls find quite appealing, strangely enough, and if you're one of them I'm not going to judge---but please stop crying. It's only a flesh wound. I'll be back to fighting evil any moment now.”
― Margaret Rogerson, Sorcery of Thorns

“I love you, too," she said.

Nathaniel's brow furrowed. He turned his face to the side and blinks several times.

"Thank God," he said finally. "I don't think unrequited love would have suited me. I might have started writing poetry.”
― Margaret Rogerson, Sorcery of Thorns