" Sitting at his kitchen table--the kitchen table where he had spread his homework as a kid to work before dinner, where he had climbed up to dust the burnstones with red hushflower powder, where he had learned to chop and slice and crush ingredients for the painkiller--was Cyra.
Her thick, wavy hair piled on one side of her head, the other glinting silver.
Her arm wrapped in armor.
Her eyes dark as space.
“Hello,” she said to him in Thuvhesit.
“Hello,” he replied in Shotet. "

― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)