A Court of Frost and Starlight (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #3.5)

by Sarah J. Maas

“I love you,” he breathed. “More than life, more than my territory, more than my crown.”

You’ll forgive me if I don’t feel like sharing the glory that is you with anyone else.

“You look like an angry snowball,”

if I were to stop, if I were to let this loom or the spindle go silent …” She broke my gaze at last to look to her tapestry. “Then there would be no Hope shining in the Void.”

“To the blessed darkness from which we are born, and to which we return.”

On the top: flowers. In the middle: flames. And on the bottom, widest layer … stars.

I lifted my eyes to his again and found stars and darkness waiting. Found home waiting.

Never enough. Not to paint him, know him. Eons would never be enough for all I wanted to do, see with him. For all I wanted to love him.

“Build a house with a painting studio.” He kissed my other temple. “Build a house with an office for you, and one for me. Build a house with a bathtub big enough for two—and for wings.” Another kiss, this time to my cheek. “Build a house with rooms for all our family.” He kissed my other cheek. “Build a house with a garden for Elain, a training ring for the Illyrian babies, a library for Amren, and an enormous dressing room for Mor.” I choked on a laugh at that. But Rhys silenced it with a kiss to my mouth, lingering and sweet. “Build a house with a nursery, Feyre.”

And from far away, as if it was carried on the cold wind, I heard the Suriel’s voice. Feyre Archeron, a request. Leave this world a better place than how you found it.

I love you, I said down the bond. What’s not to love? Before I could elbow him, Rhys kissed me again, breathless and swift. To the stars who listen, Feyre. I brushed a hand over his cheek to wipe away the last of his tears, his skin warm and soft, and we turned down the street that would lead us home. Toward our future—and all that waited within it. To the dreams that are answered, Rhys.