A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Where are my sisters?” The thought clanged through me, jarring as a pealing bell.
Rhys paused, hand slipping from my hair as his smile faded. “At the House of Wind.” He straightened, swallowing—as if it somehow checked him. “I can—take you to them.” Every word seemed to be an effort.
But he would, I realized. He’d shove down his need for me and take me to them, if that was what I wanted. My choice. It had always been my choice with him.”

“You have a choice,” he murmured against my cheekbone. “Either I lick every inch of you clean …” His hand grazed the tip of my breast, circling lazily. As if we had days and days to do this. “Or you can get into the bath that should be ready by now.”
I pulled away, lifting a brow. “Are you suggesting that I smell?”
Rhys smirked, and I could have sworn my core pounded in answer. “Never. But …” His eyes darkened, the desire and amusement fading as he took in my clothes. “There is blood on you. Yours, and others’. I thought I’d be a good mate and offer you a bath before I ravish you wholly.”
I huffed a laugh and brushed back his hair, savoring the silken, sable strands between my fingers. “So considerate. Though I can’t believe you kicked everyone out of the house so you could take me to bed.”
“One of the many benefits to being High Lord.”
“What a terrible abuse of power.”
That half smile danced on his mouth. “Well?”
“As much as I’d like to see you attempt to lick off a week’s worth of dirt, sweat, and blood…” His eyes gleamed with the challenge, and I laughed again. “Normal bath, please.”

“Don’t ever,” Rhys said, hands sliding into his pockets, “speak to my mate like that again.”

"Rhys stepped off the stairs and took my hand.

Night Triumphant—and the Stars Eternal.

If he was the sweet, terrifying darkness, I was the glittering light that only his shadows could make clear."

"Rhys stepped off the stairs and took my hand.

Night Triumphant—and the Stars Eternal.

If he was the sweet, terrifying darkness, I was the glittering light that only his shadows could make clear."

[Rhys lives, Amren lives, everybody fucking lives.



Where are the sacrifices? How it can possible that no one in this bloated main cast dies? (Don't you bloody dare point to Feyre's dad. He was barely a presence the entire series, and I remain firmly convinced Maas brought him back just to fill the death toll and shut up people like me.)

I understand Rhys's resurrection—he's Feyre's mate and fan favorite and therefore too important to die—but Amren too? Her losing her godly power is not a sacrifice. She's still High Fae. Why not make her human? Why not have a human serve in the Night Court? Or why not have Cassian or someone else lose their wings? Quite a few reviewers (and me included) have mentioned this already, but Maas undeniably has an obsession with inhumanly powerful characters.

On the subject of Rhys, it would have been so, so cool for Feyre to be the sole ruler of the Night Court. The first High Lady in history. And it would have been a fitting end to her character arc. She was dependent on a man in the first book, was broken by the same man in the second, and then healed and made to see she could be powerful and independent by another man. In the third, she stands alone, back straight, strong and proud, without a man. Obviously I'm oversimplifying things here, but you can't deny the pieces line up.

Also, that deus ex machina army in the end. Oh, we're on the edge of losing! All is lost! BUT WAIT here's an army. And ANOTHER army! (hide spoiler)]

His touch turned different. Exploring. Broad strokes and feather-light ones, arches and swirls and direct, searing lines.

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Something thumped in front of me. A bottle of wine. “It’s fine if you drink directly from it,” was all Mor said.

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Something thumped in front of me. A bottle of wine. “It’s fine if you drink directly from it,” was all Mor said.

“She is High Lady of the Night Court. She may do as she wishes.”

Mile after mile. A kingdom of the rotting dead. And still I looked.

“I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair.”

“I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair.”

“It’s a rare person to face who they truly are and not run from it – not be broken by it.”

“Maybe one day, when the earth had grown old and died, when the stars had vanished, too…maybe then, we would return to this place.”

“A nightmare, I’d told Tamlin. I was the nightmare.”

“A nightmare, I’d told Tamlin. I was the nightmare.”

“I repeated their names silently, over and over into the darkness. Rhysand. Mor. Cassian. Amren. Azriel. Elain. Nesta.”

“I understood why the Suriel had come to help me, again and again. Not just for kindness … but because it was a dreamer. And it was the heart of a dreamer that had ceased beating inside that monstrous chest.”

“Every piece of my still-healing heart belonged to him.”

“I would have waited five hundred more years for you. A thousand years. And if this was all the time we were allowed to have … The wait was worth it.”

“A gift. All of it.”

A nightmare, I’d told Tamlin.
I was the nightmare.

I met those laughing, fierce hazel eyes.

Cassian’s smile softened. “Hello, Feyre."

My throat tightened to the point of pain, and I threw my arms around his neck, embracing him tightly.

“I missed you, too,” Cassian murmured, squeezing me.

“If you hadn’t stolen my bride away in the night, Rhysand, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back.”

I said quietly, “The sun was shining when I left you.”

Tarquin took him in. Then me. And the others. “I rescind the blood rubies. Let there be no debts between us.”

“Don’t expect Amren to return hers,” Cassian muttered. “She’s grown attached to it.”

“Feyre Archeron,” the Suriel said again, gazing at the leafy canopy, the sky peeking through it. A painful inhale. “A request.”

I leaned close. “Anything.”

Another rattling breath. “Leave this world...a better place than how you found it.”

“Only you can decide what breaks you, Cursebreaker. Only you.”

“Only you can decide what breaks you, Cursebreaker. Only you.”

“I hope you find happiness, too.'
"And I did. Not just for what he'd done for Rhys, but...Even for an immortal, there was not enough *time* in life to waste it on hatred. On feeling it and putting it into the world.
So I wished him well -- I truly did, and hoped that one day...One day, perhaps he would face those insidious fears, that destructive rage rotting away inside him.”

Where A Court of Mist and Fury was romance heavy (not that I'm complaining), A Court of Wings and Ruin was action-packed and was cluttered with twists and magical intrigue and SJM definitely didn't let the romance aspect of the book obliterate the subplot, deftly exploring all the details.