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“Arin took the basket from her. "Coming or going?"
"I've a errand here, and won't be home until late."
"Shall I guess what brings you to town?"
"You can try."
He peeked in the basket. Bread, still warm from the oven. A bottle of liquor. Long, flat, pieces of wood. Rolls of gauze. "A picnic...with a wounded soldier? Sarsine," he teased, "is it true love? What's the wood for? Wait, don't tell me. I'm not sure I want to know."
She swatted him. "The cartwright's oldest daughter has a broken arm.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“Arin, are you all right?"
"How?" He managed. "How did her arm break?"
"She fell of a ladder."
He must have visibly relaxed, because his cousin raised her brows and looked ready to scold.
"I imagined something worse," he tried to explain.
She appeared to understand his relief that pain, if it had to come, came this time without malice. Just and accident. Done by no one. The luck, sometimes of life. A bad slip that ends with bread, and someone to bind you.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“I am a practical person. You, on the other hand, are just like Kestrel and Arin. So much drama. Perhaps whatever has gone wrong between you and this girl could be solved with more honesty, and less wounded torment."
"Impossible.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Hollow Heart