Kayla Heitmeier

“Go into her mind to take the pain away," Madja said to Rhys, who blinked in confirmation, the cursed, as if scolding himself for not thinking of it sooner. Cassian looked across the bed, to where Elain was holding Feyre's other hand, and Nesta held Elain's.
Rhys said to his mate, "Feyre darling-"
"No good-byes," Feyre panted. "No good-byes, Rhys.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Only you can decide what breaks you" The Suriel”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“I want you to know my name,” he said. “The name I was given, not the title I took for myself. Will you have it, Alina?”
I could feel the weight of Nikolai’s ring in my palm back at the Spinning Wheel. I didn’t have to stand here in the Darkling’s arms. I could vanish from his grip, slide back into consciousness and the safety of a stone room hidden in a mountaintop. But I didn’t want to go. Despite everything, I wanted this whispered confidence.
“Yes,” I breathed.
After a long moment, he said, “Aleksander.”
A little laugh escaped me. He arched a brow, a smile tugging at his lips. “What?”
“It’s just so … common.” Such an ordinary name, held by kings and peasants alike. I’d known two Aleksanders at Keramzin alone, three in the First Army. One of them had died on the Fold.
His smile deepened and he cocked his head to the side. It almost hurt to see him this way. “Will you say it?” he asked.
I hesitated, feeling danger crowd in on me.
“Aleksander,” I whispered.
His grin faded, and his gray eyes seemed to flicker.
“Again,” he said.
“Aleksander.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ruin and Rising