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

by Sarah J. Maas

There was a note in those words that made me pause. A note of what I could have sworn was desperation. Worry.

And that was indeed worry glimmering behind the cocky, insufferable grin.

“So I’m your huntress and thief?” His hands slid down to cup the backs of my knees as he said with a roguish grin, “You are my salvation, Feyre.”

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

“I do have more important things to do,” he purred. “But I find myself unable to resist the temptation. The same way you can’t resist watching me whenever we’re out. So territorial.” My mouth went a bit dry. But—flirting with him, fighting with him … It was easy. Fun.

“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.

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

“Of course I’ll dance with you,” Rhys said, his voice still raw. “All night, if you wish.” “Even if I step on your toes?” “Even then.”

The painting—I could see it; feel it. I wanted to paint it. I wanted to paint.

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

“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.”

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

“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.”

“We deserve each other. And we deserve to be happy.” Rhys shuddered against me. And when his lips found mine, I let him lay me down upon the roof tiles and make love to me under the stars.

And I realized—I realized how badly I’d been treated before, if my standards had become so low. If the freedom I’d been granted felt like a privilege and not an inherent right.

“You might be my mate,” he said, “but you remain your own person. You decide your fate—your choices. Not me. You chose yesterday. You choose every day. Forever.”

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