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“Kestrel, this isn't you." She pressed back against the chill glass. "I don't know what you mean." "This voice you've been using, that bright one...do you think I don't recognize it? It's the sound of you laying a trap. Of you hiding behind your own words. And I know that the way you've been talking is not you. Say what you want about me, about what happened between us, about the shape of the sun and the color of the grass and any other truths in this world you want to deny. Deny everything until the gods strike you down. But you can't say that I don't know you." He was now close enough that the air between them was alive against Kestrel's skin. "I... have thought about you." His voice dropped. "I have thought about how I have never known you to be dishonest with me.” — Marie Rutkoski