A Court of Thorns and Roses (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #1)

by Sarah J. Maas

Maybe one day, if I was ever released, if there was an ocean and years between us, I would think back and wonder why he’d bothered.

“Do you ever stop being such a prick?” I snapped back.

I didn’t mind his absence.

With that thought, I went back to my little table. At least I’d learned the layout of their lands—and I knew to never, ever go north.

Shortcoming—another one of my shortcomings. I rubbed my brows with my thumb and forefinger. I’d been equally foolish for feeling a shred of pity for him—for the lone, brooding faerie, for someone I had so stupidly thought would really care if he met someone who perhaps felt the same, perhaps understood—in my ignorant, insignificant human way—what it was like to bear the weight of caring for others. I should have let his hand bleed that night, should have known better than to think that maybe—maybe there would be someone, human or faerie or whatever, who could understand what my life—what I—had become these past few years.

“It’s yours. Don’t bury it in my back, please.”

the hand I’d put on my throat sliding down to my chest, where my heart roared with a fierce sort of joy and grief and overwhelming humility—humility before that magnificent art.

There it was, the giant pain that cracked me in two if I thought about it too long.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,”

“Because all the monsters have been let out of their cages tonight, no matter what court they belong to. So I may roam wherever I wish until the dawn.”

I was beyond cowering.

“No, I don’t want you to live somewhere else. I want you here, where I can look after you—where I can come home and know you’re here, painting and safe.”

I knew I was headed down a path that would likely end in my mortal heart being left in pieces, and yet … And yet I couldn’t stop myself.

And for her, with that raging, unrelenting heart, it would have been a line in the sand.

stopped fighting it, glad—so selfishly glad—to be able to set down that savage, wild part of me that had only survived hour to hour.

If Amarantha ripped out my throat, at least I would die doing something for him—at least I would die trying to fix the destruction I hadn’t prevented, trying to save the people I’d doomed. At least Tamlin would know it was for him, and that I loved him.

don’t trust a soul in there—not even your Tamlin. Your senses are your greatest enemies; they will be waiting to betray you.”

I avoided meeting her eyes, focusing on Tamlin’s brown boots. He was ten feet from me—ten feet, and not saying a word, not even looking horrified or angry.

Because when I looked into Tamlin’s eyes, even now, seated beside Amarantha as her slave or worse, I loved him with a fierceness that swept up my whole heart. Because when he had widened his eyes, I’d known he still loved me.

“Fixed—as pert and pretty as before.” He smirked at me. The familiar gesture made my chest tighten to the point of pain.

Try not to die, will you? I already have a long list of faeries to kill—I don’t need to add more to it, if only for Tamlin’s sake.” Which was no doubt why he’d even come down here.

It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely.

“Let me enter eternity,” she repeated, lifting her chin. “Fear no evil,” she whispered—just for me. “Feel no pain.”

Fate had whispered to Tamlin that the cold, contrary girl he’d dragged to his home would be the one to break his spell, because Fate had kept me alive just to get to this point, just to see if I had been listening.

Rhysand yelled my name again—yelled it as though he cared.

“Because when the legends get written, I didn’t want to be remembered for standing on the sidelines. I want my future offspring to know that I was there, and that I fought against her at the end, even if I couldn’t do anything useful.”

“Because,” he went on, his eyes locked with mine, “I didn’t want you to fight alone. Or die alone.”

“Easier to live with what I did if my heart had changed, too.