" They both fell, Serilda landing on her back on the pile of straw. Gild landed on top of her with a grunt, his chin smacking her shoulder, making his teeth crack loudly near her ear. His knee struck her hip, as he barely managed to keep from crushing her with his weight.
Serilda lay in the straw, disoriented and breathless, a dull pain thrumming in her backside.
Gild pushed himself up with one hand and rubbed his chin, grimacing.
“Still alive,” moaned Serilda, copying Anna’s favorite phrase.
“Makes one of us,” Gild said. He met her gaze, laughter in his eyes. “Hello again.”
Then he glanced down, to where Serilda’s hands were caught between their bodies. Her hands, entirely of their own mind, were pressed against his chest. Not pushing him away.
Color burst across his face. “Sorry,” he said, pulling back.
As soon as he did, a sharp pain burned across Serilda’s scalp. She cried out, leaning toward him. “Stop, stop! My hair!”
Gild froze. A lock of Serilda’s long hair had caught on the button of his shirt’s collar. “How did that happen?”
“Meddlesome elves, no doubt,” said Serilda, trying to shuffle into a better position where she could start untangling the hair, but by bit.
“They’re the worst.”
Serilda paused in her work to meet his eyes, catching the silent humor glittering in them. This close, in the light, she could see that they were the color of warm amber.
“Hello again,” he said quietly. "

― Marissa Meyer , Gilded (Gilded, #1)