Mariela

“You still love me. It's possible." Gods, do I ache to kiss her, to remind her exactly what we are together, but I won't, not until she asks. "I'm not afraid of hard work, especially not when I know just how sweet the rewards are. I would rather loose this entire war than live without you, and if that means I have to prove myself over and over, then I'll do it. You gave me your heart, and I'm keeping it." She already owns mine, even if she doesn't realize it.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“Violet Sorrengail,' she whispers, moving closer. 'Are you wearing Riorson's flight jacket?'

Liam's head snaps in my direction, curse his stupidly good hearing.

'Why would you say that?' I do a shitty job of feigning shock and shove the sheaths into every available pocket in this thing. All three of them, which are considerably deeper than the ones in my own jacket.

'Oh, I don't know. Because it's huge on you and there are three stars right here?' She taps where there's only one star on her uniform.

Well, shit. Just goes to show that neither of us was thinking clearly.

'It could be any third-year's.' I shrug.

'With a Fourth Wing shield on the shoulder?' She cocks an eyebrow.

'That does limit it a bit,' I agree.

'And a wingleader emblem beneath those stars?' she teases.

'Fine, it's his.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“It’s been. My honor.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“I’ve always thought she was a better match for you.”
“I know the feeling well. And you are strong and fierce and have a ruthless streak, too. Not to mention you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. That mind of yours is sexy as hell. Imogen and I are just friends. Trust me, she wasn’t looking at me, and even if she were…Gods help me, I’m only looking at you.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing