A Court of Mist and Fury (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #2)

by Sarah J. Maas

I hurtled for that spot, even as I felt my own lightness, folding my very self into wind and shadow and dust, the looseness of it radiating out of me, all while I aimed for where he was headed— Rhysand appeared, a solid figure in my world of smoke and stars. And his eyes were wide, his mouth split in a grin of wicked delight, as I winnowed in front of him and tackled him into the snow.

I stood as he entered, scanning him for any sign of injury. Something tight in my chest eased when I found nothing amiss.

SHES FALLING FOR HIM IM CALLING IT NOW

“Tonight. Let’s find out if you, Feyre darling, are all talk—or if you’ll allow a Lord of Night to take you out on the town.”

“You,” I breathed, not taking my eyes from the musicians playing so skillfully that even the diners had set down their forks in the cafés nearby. “You sent that music into my cell. Why?” Rhysand’s voice was hoarse. “Because you were breaking. And I couldn’t find another way to save you.”

On it, Rhysand had written, I might be a shameless flirt, but at least I don’t have a horrible temper. You should come tend to my wounds from our squabble in the snow. I’m bruised all over thanks to you.

Go lick your wounds and leave me be. The paper vanished. It was gone for a while—far longer than it should have taken to write the few words that appeared on the paper when it returned. I’d much rather you licked my wounds for me.

I CANNOT COPE

Lick you where, exactly? The paper vanished before I’d even completed the final mark. His reply was a long time coming. Then, Wherever you want to lick me, Feyre. I’d like to start with “Everywhere,” but I can choose, if necessary.

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

I was under duress, his next note read. If you want, I’d be more than happy to prove you wrong. I’ve been told I’m very, very good at licking.

this man i swear

Try not to moan too loudly when you dream about me. I need my beauty rest. I got up, chucked the letter in the burbling fire, and gave it a vulgar gesture.

feyre babes you have way more strength than me i can tell you that for free

“I’m surprised there aren’t more mirrors in this house, since you seem to love looking at yourself so much.” Azriel launched into a coughing fit. Cassian just turned away, a hand clamped over his mouth. Rhys’s lips twitched. “There’s the Feyre I adore.”

“Is that what got under your skin? That I shut you out, or that it was so easy for Tarquin to get in?” “What got under my skin,” Rhys said, his breathing a bit uneven, “is that you smiled at him.” The rest of the world faded to mist as the words sank in. “You are jealous.”

“To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys.” He picked up his glass, his gaze so piercing that I wondered why I had bothered blushing at all for Tarquin. Rhys clinked his glass against mine. “To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are answered.”

Rhys still knelt, wings drooping across the white sheets, head bowed, his tattoos stark against his golden skin. A dark, fallen prince.

Rhysand whispered to me, his other hand now stroking the bare skin of my ribs in lazy, indolent circles, “Try not to let it go to your head.” I knew they could all hear it. So did he. I stared at their bowed heads, my heart hammering, but said with midnight smoothness, “What?” Rhys’s breath caressed my ear, the twin to the breath he’d brushed against it merely an hour ago in the skies. “That every male in here is contemplating what they’d be willing to give up in order to get that pretty, red mouth of yours on them.”

“I had heard the rumors, and I didn’t quite believe them.” His gaze settled on me, on my breasts, peaked through the folds of my dress, of my legs, spread wider than they’d been minutes before, and Rhys’s hand in dangerous territory. “But it seems true: Tamlin’s pet is now owned by another master.” “You should see how I make her beg,” Rhys murmured, nudging my neck with his nose.

You are good, Rhys. You are kind. This mask does not scare me. I see you beneath it.

The stars cascaded over us, filling the world with white and blue light. They were like living fireworks, and my breath lodged in my throat as the stars kept on falling and falling. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.

The smile the world would likely never see, the smile he’d given up for the sake of his people, his lands.

The painting—I could see it; feel it. I wanted to paint it. I wanted to paint. I didn’t wait for him to stretch out his hand before I went to him. And looking up into his face I said, “I want to paint you.” He gently lifted me into his arms. “Nude would be best,” he said in my ear.

“When you spend so long trapped in darkness, Lucien, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.”

“You look good with wings,” he said, and kissed my brow.

I could sit on the bed and open the armoire easily. The bed. “I asked for two,” Rhys said, hands already up. His breath clouded in front of him. Not even a fireplace. And not enough space to even demand he sleep on the floor.

if this guy still finds a way to sleep on the floor i may lose my marbles

He said softly, “I love it when you look at me like that.” The purr in his voice heated my blood. “Like what?” “Like my power isn’t something to run from. Like you see me.”

“And if he had grabbed me?” There was nothing but uncompromising will in his eyes. “Then I would have torn apart the world to get you back.”

brb crying

“I’m thinking,” he said, following the flick of my tongue over my bottom lip, “that I look at you and feel like I’m dying. Like I can’t breathe. I’m thinking that I want you so badly I can’t concentrate half the time I’m around you, and this room is too small for me to properly bed you. Especially with the wings.”

“I’m thinking that I can’t stop thinking about you. And that it’s been that way for a long while. Even before I left the Spring Court. And maybe that makes me a traitorous, lying piece of trash, but—”

“Greedy,” he murmured, his lips hovering over my neck. “First you terrorize me with your cold hands, now you want … what is it you want, Feyre?”

He was still staring at me when I captured his mouth with my own, biting on his lower lip.

FINALLYYYYYYY

“I’ve had a long, long time to think about how and where I want you,” Rhys said onto the skin of my neck, his fingers sliding under the band of my pants, but stopping just beneath. Their home for the evening. “I have no intention of doing it all in one night. Or in a room where I can’t even fuck you against the wall.”

A MAN

Rhys roared in pain, arching against me. I felt the impact—felt blinding pain through the bond that ripped through my own mental shields, felt the shudder of the dozen places the arrows struck him as they shot from bows hidden beneath the forest canopy. And then we were falling.

NONONONONONO

“The High Lord of the Night Court is your mate.”

WHAT

Rhysand was my mate. Not lover, not husband, but more than that. A bond so deep, so permanent that it was honored over all others. Rare, cherished. Not Tamlin’s mate. Rhysand’s.

“I suspected for a while,” Rhys said, swallowing once more. “I knew for certain when Amarantha was killing you. And when we stood on the balcony Under the Mountain—right after we were freed, I felt it snap into place between us. I think when you were Made, it … it heightened the smell of the bond. I looked at you then and the strength of it hit me like a blow.”

“Do the others know?” “Amren and Mor do. Azriel and Cassian suspect.” My face burned. They knew—they— “Why didn’t you tell me?” “You were in love with him; you were going to marry him. And then you … you were enduring everything and it didn’t feel right to tell you.”

“I knew … I knew I was in love with you that moment I picked up the knife to kill Amarantha.

I stopped before him, staring down. And I said, “You love me?” Rhys nodded. And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.

“And now I want you to know, Rhysand, that I love you. I want you to know … ”

“I want you to know,” I whispered, “that I am broken and healing, but every piece of my heart belongs to you. And I am honored—honored to be your mate.”

“I love you,” I said again. I hadn’t dared say the words in my head. “And I’d endure every second of it over again so I could find you. And if war comes, we’ll face it. Together. I won’t let them take me from you. And I won’t let them take you from me, either.”

Knelt on those stars and mountains inked on his knees. He would bow for no one and nothing— But his mate. His equal.

He looked me over, naked, covered in paint, his own face and body smeared with it, and gave me a slow, satisfied male smile. “You’re mine,” he snarled, and hefted me up into his arms.

“I think I fell in love with you,” Rhys murmured, stroking a finger down my arm, “the moment I realized you were cleaving those bones to make a trap for the Middengard Wyrm. Or maybe the moment you flipped me off for mocking you. It reminded me so much of Cassian. For the first time in decades, I wanted to laugh.”

“I fell in love with you, smartass, because you were one of us—because you weren’t afraid of me, and you decided to end your spectacular victory by throwing that piece of bone at Amarantha like a javelin. I felt Cassian’s spirit beside me in that moment, and could have sworn I heard him say, ‘If you don’t marry her, you stupid prick, I will.’

His eyes danced with feline amusement. “Cruel, beautiful thing.” I snorted. The idea that he found me beautiful at all— “You are,” he said. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I thought that from the first moment I saw you on Calanmai.”

Rhys kissed the corner of my mouth. “You have no idea how many things I’ve thought up when it comes to you.” “I remember mention of a wall.” His laugh was a sensual promise. “Next time, Feyre, I’ll fuck you against the wall.”

“When he bashes your teeth in, Cassian, don’t come crying to me.” Cassian crossed his arms. “Mating bond chafing a bit, Rhys?” Rhys said nothing. Cassian snickered. “Feyre doesn’t look too tired. Maybe she could give me a ride—”

creasing

How do I tell Cassian and Azriel I don’t need them here to protect me? Company is fine, but I don’t need sentries. He’d written back, You don’t tell them. You set boundaries if they cross a line, but you are their friend—and my mate. They will protect you on instinct. If you kick their asses out of the house, they’ll just sit on the roof.

I scribbled, You Illyrian males are insufferable. Rhys had just said, Good thing we make up for it with impressive wingspans.

“Feyre Cursebreaker, the Defender of the Rainbow.”

“You—shielded against me. Completely. I couldn’t find a way in.” “I’m sorry.” Rhys let out a bitter laugh. “Sorry? Be impressed. That shield … What you did to the Attor … ” He shook his head. “You could have been killed.” “Are you going to scold me for it?” His brows furrowed. Then he buried his face in my shoulder. “How could I scold you for defending my people? I want to throttle you, yes, for not going back to the town house, but … You chose to fight for them. For Velaris.” He kissed my neck. “I don’t deserve you.”

ugh my heart