Ericka

“Riorson and I were fostered at the same estate after the apostasy,” he says, using the Tyrrish term for the rebellion, which I haven’t heard in ages.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“I can’t take his constant pessimism about my future anymore.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“He warded your door,” Liam says, quieter this time. “So only you can open it.” Shit. I don’t know how to feel about that. It’s more than slightly controlling, and way out of line, but also…sweet. “But if he’s the one who warded it, then he can get in, too, right?” “Well, yeah.” Liam shrugs as Professors Markham and Devera walk down the stairs, heading for the front of the room. “But it’s not like Riorson is going to kill you.” “Right. You see, I’m still adjusting to that little change of heart.” I fumble my quill and it falls to the ground, but before I can lean over, the shadows beneath the arm of my desk lift the instrument like an offering. I pluck it out of the shadows and look back at Xaden.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing

“He lifts his hands, as though ready to cup my face. “Let me see.”
― Rebecca Yarros, Fourth Wing