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Anthony T. Hincks

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“Do it for the miniature pegasus,' Emerie said. Cassian had no idea what it meant, but Gwyn's lips twitched upward. Nesta laughed. The sound might as well have been a lightning strike to his head for how much it rocked him, that laugh. Free and light and so unlike anything he'd ever heard from her that even Azriel blinked. A true laugh. 'The miniature pegasus,' Nesta said, 'was an illusion. And is now back in his make-believe meadow.' 'He loved Gwyn most,' Emerie teased. 'Despite your efforts to woo him.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Gwyn whispered, 'I am the rock against which the surf crashes,' Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. 'Nothing can break me.' Cassian's throat tightened, and even from across the ring, he could see Nesta's eyes gleaming with pride and pain. Emerie said, 'Nothing can break us.”

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“Please tell me all the chocolate is for us.' The House had stocked the table between the armchairs with piles of chocolate truffles and confections and bars of it. Along with cookies and small finger cakes. And a platter of cheeses and fruit. And carafes of water and various juices. Gwyn surveyed the table. 'Did you go to all this trouble?' 'Oh, no,' Emerie said, eyes glowing. 'Nesta's been holding out on us.' Nesta scoffed, but Emerie said, 'The House will get you anything you want. Just say it aloud.' At Gwyn's raised brows, Emerie said, 'I'd like a slice of pistachio cake, please.' A plateful of one appeared before her. As well as a bowl of whipped cream topped with raspberries. Gwyn blinked. 'You live in a magic house.' 'It likes to read,' Nesta admitted, patting a stack of the romances. 'We've bonded over that.' Gwyn whispered to the room, 'What's your favourite book?' One thumped on the table beside Emerie's cake, and Gwyn squawked in surprise. But then rubbed her hands together. 'Oh, this is delightful.' 'That smile means trouble,' Emerie said. Gwyn's grin just widened.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“If you were to name a sword, what would you call it?' Gwyn answered, thought she hadn't been asked, 'Silver Majesty.' Emerie snorted, 'Really?' Gwyn demanded, 'What would you call it?' Emerie considered. 'Foe Slayer, or something. Something intimidating.' 'That's no better!' Nesta's mouth tugged upward at their teasing. Gwyn looked to her, teal eyes bright. 'Which one is worse: Foe Slayer or Silver Majesty?' 'Silver Majesty,' Nesta said, and Emerie crowed with triumph. Gwyn waved a hand, booing. 'What would you call it?' Cassian asked Nesta again. 'Why do you want to know?' 'Humour me.' She lifted a brow. But then said with all sincerity. 'Killer.' His brows flattened. Nesta shrugged. 'I don't know. Is it necessary to name a sword?' 'Just tell me: If you had to name a sword, what would you call it?' 'Are you getting her one as a Winter Solstice present?' Emerie asked. 'No.' Nesta hid her smile. She loved this- when the three of them ganged up on him, like lionesses around a very muscled, very attractive carcass. 'Then why keep asking?' Gwyn said. Cassian scowled, 'Curiosity.' But his jaw tightened. It wasn't that. There was something else. Why would he want her to name a sword?”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Gwyn did find them, the priestess panting and flushed as she handed out two rectangular parcels, each roughly the size of a large, thin book. 'One for each of you.' Nesta opened the brown paper and beheld a stack of pages filled with writing. At the top of the first page, it merely said, Chapter Twenty-One. She read the first few lines beneath it, then nearly dropped the pages. 'This- this is about us.' Gwyn beamed. 'I convinced Merrill to add us into the penultimate chapter. She even let me write it- with her own annotations, of course. But it's about the rebirth of the Valkyries. About what we're doing.' Nesta had no words. Emerie's hands were once more shaking as she leafed through the pages. 'You had this much to say about us?' Emerie said, choking on a laugh. Gwyn rubbed her hands together. 'With more to come.' Nesta read a line at random on the fifth page. Whether the sun beat hot on their brows or freezing rain turned their bones to ice, Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyneth arrived at practice each morning, ready to... The back of her throat ached; her eyes stung. 'We're in a book.' Gwyn's fingers slid into hers, squeezing tight. Nesta looked up to find her holding Emerie's free hand as well. Gwyn smiled again, her eyes bright. 'Our stories are worth telling.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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