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The forest went silent. The wind died. Even the snow paused.
An arrow carved from mountain ash, armed with an iron head.
As if she wasnt convinced deep down the wolf was a faerie.
It wasn’t meanness that kept her from offering to help; it simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty.
But Elain, the flower-grower, the gentle heart … Nesta would go down swinging for her.
“Whatever you do,” I said quietly, “don’t marry Tomas Mandray. His father beats his wife, and none of his sons do anything to stop it.” Nesta’s eyes widened, but I added, “Bruises are harder to conceal than poverty.”
“Because killing us is easier in pants.”
I would not be hunted down like a deer among wolves.
Against slavery, against tyranny, I would gladly go to my death, no matter whose freedom I was defending.”
“I heard you scream,” he said as I examined the blade in my hands. I’d never held one so finely crafted, so perfectly balanced. “And I hesitated. Not long, but I hesitated before I came running. Even though Tam got there in time, I still broke my word in those seconds I waited.” He jerked his chin at the knife. “It’s yours. Don’t bury it in my back, please.”
“All those years, what I did for them … And they didn’t try to stop you from taking me.” There it was, the giant pain that cracked me in two if I thought about it too long.
Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
I’d never heard of a glamour not working. But Nesta’s mind was so entirely her own; she had put up such strong walls—of steel and iron and ash wood—that even a High Lord’s magic couldn’t pierce them.
Horrific, stunning—the face of a thousand nightmares and dreams.
Don’t let her see you cry. Put your hands at your sides and stand up. I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. Stand. Don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing you break.
It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely.
Sometimes, if I stared at the ceiling long enough, it became the vast expanse of the starry night sky, and I became a small, unimportant thing that blew away in the wind.
“I love you,” I said, and stabbed him.
“Because,” he went on, his eyes locked with mine, “I didn’t want you to fight alone. Or die alone.”
“Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.”
