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Wealth of Words

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Amit Kalantri

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“She squeezed her eyes shut and stopped resisting. She fell into his arms, where he held her gently for a heartbeat then sighed. She thought of Val again. For all her dragging and pulling and demanding, all their ways their bodies had come into contact—and conflict—with each other over the years, Val had never given herself to Veronyka like this. Never offered herself at all. With Val, everything was take, take, take.”

SistersQueenAvalkyra AshfireQueendom
Book:Heart of Flames
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“Elsa was smart and focused, but kept so much bottled up inside her it was a wonder she didn't explode. Anna was a free spirit who wore her heart on her sleeve, but she could also be impulsive. Even at five, she was already an outgoing little thing who liked to stop and talk to every person she met, while Elsa tried to hide behind her parents at gatherings and preferred life in the background. They balanced each other perfectly- Elsa knowing when to help rein Anna in, and Anna knowing when to pull Elsa out.”

BalanceSistersAnna And Elsa
Book:Conceal, Don't Feel
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“Her eyes watered triumphantly, and she let her gaze drop back towards the house: the window of her bedroom, the Michaelmas daisy she and Ma had planted over the poor, dead body of Constable the cat, the chink in the bricks where, embarrassingly, she used to leave notes for the fairies. There were faint memories of a time before, of being a very small child, collecting winkles from a pool by the seashore, of dining each night in the front room of her grandmother's seaside boardinghouse, but they were like a dream. The farmhouse was the only home she'd ever known. And although she didn't want a matching armchair of her own, she liked seeing her parents in theirs each night, knowing as she feel asleep that they were murmuring together on the other side of the thin wall, that she only had to reach out an arm to bother one of her sisters. She would miss them when she went. Laurel blinked. She would miss them. The certainty was swift and heavy. It sat in her stomach like a stone. They borrowed her clothes, broke her lipsticks, scratched her records, but she would miss them. The noise and heat of them, the movement and squabbles and crushing joy. They were like a litter of puppies, tumbling together in their shared bedroom. They overwhelmed outsiders and this pleased them. They were the Nicolson girls, Laurel, Rose, Iris, and Daphne; a garden of daughters, as Daddy rhapsodized when he'd had a pint too many. Unholy terrors, as Grandma proclaimed after their holiday visits.”

SistersChildhood MemoriesHome Sweet Home
Book:The Secret Keeper
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“Hannah shook her head, exasperated. She did that a lot, I noticed. A fierce energy infused her every long-limbed movement, led her easily to frustration. Emmeline, by contrast, had the calculated posture of a doll come to life. Their features, similar when considered individually- two neat noses, two pairs of intense blue eyes, two pretty mouths- manifested themselves uniquely on each girl's face. Where Hannah gave the impression of a fairy queen- passionate, mysterious, compelling- Emmeline's was a more accessible beauty. Though still a child, there was something in the way her lips parted in repose that reminded me of a glamour photograph I had once seen when it fell from the pedlar's pocket.”

SistersFeminine BeautyEmmeline HartfordHannah Hartford
Book:The House at Riverton
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