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

by Sarah J. Maas

He never woke when the nightmares dragged me from sleep; never woke when I vomited my guts up night after night. If he knew or heard, he said nothing about it.

“There is no such thing as a High Lady.”

“Hello, Feyre darling,” he purred.

“You look absolutely delicious today, Feyre?! That’s what you wrote?”

“He’d never help the king—”

“But I know you—more than you realize,

Because there might be a day, Feyre, when only you stand between the King of Hybern and your human family.

The only evidence I had at all that Rhys remained on the premises were the blank copies of the alphabet, along with several sentences I was to write every day, swapping out words, each one more obnoxious than the last: Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord. Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord. Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord.

I clutched the arms of my chair, a small seat of oak beside his giant throne of carved roses.

“Thank you,” she said, and bowed deeply this time. “I will not forget this kindness.” Her voice slithered over the words, and I shivered again as her black eyes threatened to swallow me whole. “Nor will any of my sisters.”

“But I’ll always make time for you.”

But it had filled my time—given me quiet, steadfast company with those characters, who did not exist and never would, but somehow made me feel less … alone.

He’d locked me in. He’d sealed me inside this house.

I was trapped inside this house. I might as well have been Under the Mountain; I might as well have been inside that cell again—

He’d trapped me in here; he’d locked me up.

She sniffed again, and I’d never felt so laid bare. Surprise lit Amren’s eyes. Rhys just nodded. Whatever that meant.

“Did you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you?”

A ring of twisted strands of gold and silver, flecked with pearl, and set with a stone of deepest, solid blue. Sapphire—but different. I’d never seen a sapphire like that, even at my father’s offices. This one … I could have sworn that in the pale light, the lines of a six-pointed star radiated across the round, opaque surface.

I was not a pet, not a doll, not an animal. I was a survivor, and I was strong. I would not be weak, or helpless again. I would not, could not be broken. Tamed.

“There are good days and hard days for me—even now. Don’t let the hard days win.”

“Feyre gave and gave—for years. Let us now help her. Help … others.”

Rhys rubbed his temples. “Cassian, considering the fact that the last time you visited, it didn’t end well—” “I wrecked one building—”

I wondered what—who—she’d eat while here. Varian seemed like a good guess.

Yeah... But not in the way you think babe

“To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys.”

“To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are answered.”

It means nothing. It’s just your body reacting—

“That stopped being my home the day you let him lock me up inside of it.”

“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.”

“If you wish to speed your mate’s healing, in addition to your blood, a pink-flowered weed sprouts by the river. Make him chew it.”

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

“You think I didn’t want to tell you? You think I liked hearing you wanted me only for amusement and release? You think it didn’t drive me out of my mind so completely that those bastards shot me out of the sky because I was too busy wondering if I should just tell you, or wait—or maybe take whatever pieces that you offered me and be happy with it? Or that maybe I should let you go so you don’t have a lifetime of assassins and High Lords hunting you down for being with me?”

And then—then I learned your name. Hearing you say it … it was like an answer to a question I’d been asking for five hundred years.

“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. I set the bowl down before him. “Then eat.”

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

Release tore through my body, and he pounded into me, hard and fast, drawing out my pleasure until I felt and saw and smelled that bond between us, until our scents merged, and I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world.

“Welcome to the family, Feyre.” And I thought those might have been the most beautiful words I’d ever heard.

“Feyre Cursebreaker, the Defender of the Rainbow.”

Inside the Cauldron was nothing but inky, swirling black. Perhaps the entire universe had come from it.

Teeth bared, Nesta pointed one finger at the King of Hybern. One finger, a curse and a damning. A promise.

Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate.”

And so Tamlin unwittingly led the High Lady of the Night Court into the heart of his territory.