" And slowly, wobbling, a droplet of water the size of a marble rose from the surface to her cupped palm.

“No wonder your sense of self-preservation is so pathetic, if that’s all the water you can conjure.” But Rowan flicked her chin, and she knew he understood what it meant, to have summoned even a droplet to her hand. To feel her mother smiling at her from realms away. "

― Sarah J. Maas , Heir of Fire (Throne of Glass, #3)