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

by Sarah J. Maas

The gleam in his eyes turned into something predatory. A thrill went through me as he braced his powerful arms on the table and purred, “Is that a challenge, Feyre?” I held that predator’s gaze—the gaze of the most powerful male in Prythian. “Is it?” His pupils flared. Gone was the quiet sadness, the isolated guilt. Only that lethal focus—on me. On my mouth. On the bob of my throat as I tried to keep my breathing even. He said, slow and soft, “Why don’t we go down to that store right now, Feyre, so you can try on those lacy little things—so I can help you pick which one to send to Tarquin.” My toes curled inside my fleece-lined slippers. Such a dangerous line we walked together. The ice-kissed night wind rustled our hair. But Rhys’s gaze cut skyward—and a heartbeat later, Azriel shot from the clouds like a spear of darkness. I wasn’t sure whether I should be relieved or not, but I left before Azriel could land, giving the High Lord and his spymaster some privacy. As soon as I entered the dimness of the stairwell, the heat rushed from me, leaving a sick, cold feeling in my stomach. There was flirting, and then there was … this. I had loved Tamlin. Loved him so much I had not minded destroying myself for it—for him. And then everything had happened, and now I was here, and … and I might have very well gone to that pretty shop with Rhysand. I could almost see what would have happened: The shop ladies would have been polite—a bit nervous—and given us privacy as Rhys sat on the...