“Sasha of Kilmorda, of Solemn, of Enoch, of the plains of Janda, of every place in between, will you be Sasha of Jeru?” “Sasha of Kjell?” she asked. “Sasha of Kjell,” he answered. “I am yours, remember?” she reminded him, as if she’d already said yes a thousand times. “And I am yours,” he whispered.”

“Sasha of Kilmorda, of Solemn, of Enoch, of the plains of Janda, of every place in between, will you be Sasha of Jeru?” “Sasha of Kjell?” she asked. “Sasha of Kjell,” he answered. “I am yours, remember?” she reminded him, as if she’d already said yes a thousand times. “And I am yours,” he whispered.”

— Amy Harmon