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

by Sarah J. Maas

Because this Solstice … it was her birthday. Twenty-one years old. It hit me for a moment, how small that number was. My beautiful, strong, fierce mate, shackled to me— “I know what that look means, you bastard,” Cassian said roughly, “and it’s bullshit. She loves you—in a way I’ve never seen anybody love anyone.”

I knew. I’d seen the lists of assets. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the enormity of Rhys’s wealth. My wealth.

A thought for a thought, Feyre darling? I smiled at the request,

“You were born on the longest night of the year.” His fingers again stroked down my back. Lower. “You were meant to be at my side from the very beginning.”

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

“but a week straight of sex? I don’t think I’d be able to walk. Or you’d be able to function, at least with your favorite part.” He nipped the delicate arch of my ear, and my toes curled. “Then you’ll just have to kiss my favorite part and make it better.”

“And it takes you two hours to get dressed,” Mor quipped through the door. A sly pause. “And I’m not talking about Feyre.”

“Go terrorize someone else,” he called to Mor, rolling his neck as his wings vanished and he stalked for the bathing room. “I need to primp.”

“I don’t make a point of looking after his movements.” “Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.” I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.”

To know when and if Lucien sought her out. What they did together. “You sure about that?” I asked quietly. Azriel’s Siphons guttered,

My boy keeps falling for the wrong girls

Cassian had named about two dozen poses for Nesta at this point. Ranging from I Will Eat Your Eyes for Breakfast to I Don’t Want Cassian to Know I’m Reading Smut. The latter was his particular favorite.

I don’t know if I can do this. Rhys was quiet for a moment. Do you want me to come with you? To paint? I’d be an excellent nude model.

“Feyre did her work thoroughly, didn’t she.” A flash of white teeth, a glimmer of light in his eyes. “With your coaching, I have no doubt.” I smiled. “Oh, no. That was all her. Clever, isn’t she.”

“You saved my mate’s life on several occasions. I will always be thankful for that.” I knew the words found their mark. My mate.

HEeeehhe

“You deserve everything that has befallen you. You deserve this pathetic, empty house, your ravaged lands. I don’t care if you offered that kernel of life to save me, I don’t care if you still love my mate. I don’t care that you saved her from Hybern, or a thousand enemies before that.” The words poured out, cold and steady. “I hope you live the rest of your miserable life alone here. It’s a far more satisfying end than slaughtering you.”

“Dumping a bunch of trees at my feet is really how you say hello these days? A little time in that Illyrian camp and you forget all your manners.” Cassian was on me in a second, hoisting me off the ground to twirl me until I was going to be sick. I beat at his chest, cursing at him.

I smacked his arm. “A heaping pile of shut the hell up.” He laughed again, and I winked at him. “Hot cocoa or wine?” Cassian curved a wing around me, turning us toward the cellar door. “How many good bottles does little Rhysie have left?”

I love cassiannnn

“I expected better from an artist.” I stuck out my tongue at him. A heartbeat later, he said in my mind, Save that tongue for later. I have ideas for it.

“It’s cold as hell!” Mor called from the front hall, startling me from the warmth pooling in my core. “And who the hell let Cassian and Feyre decorate?”

“Dangerous words, Rhysand,” Amren warned, strutting through the door, nearly swallowed up by the enormous white fur coat she wore. Only her chin-length dark hair and solid silver eyes were visible above the collar. She looked— “You look like an angry snowball,” Cassian said.

“Careful, boy. Wouldn’t want to start a war you can’t win.” She unbuttoned the collar so we all heard her clearly as she purred, “Especially with Nesta Archeron coming for Solstice in two days.” I felt the ripple that

HhHahaahahahahha

“Did she say why?” “No.” Anger—there was anger in Elain’s face, too. “She just said … She said that we have our lives, and she has hers.”

Nothing will ever make me like you nesta

“Pick on someone your own size,” Cassian said to Amren, shoveling roast chicken into his mouth. “I’d feel bad for the mice,” Azriel muttered. Mor and Cassian howled,

Rhys kissed my brow. “If someone propositions you, tell them we’ll both be free in an hour.”

“Would you want people betting on you?” “You assholes bet on me all the time. I remember the last one you did—you and Mor, making wagers about whether my wings would heal.” I snorted. True.

A present. Wrapped in black crepe paper and tied with silver thread. And beside it, smiling down at me, was Rhys. He’d propped his head on a fist, his wings draped across the bed behind him. “Happy birthday, Feyre darling.”

“They’re having a snowball fight.” Another nod. “Three Illyrian warriors,” I said. “The greatest Illyrian warriors. Are having a snowball fight.” Mor’s eyes practically glowed with wicked delight. “Since they were children.”

“So the three of them are just in there. Naked. Sweating.” Mother above. Interested in taking a look? The dark purr echoed into my mind.

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

It was then that I realized what the three different tiers had been painted to look like. On the top: flowers. In the middle: flames. And on the bottom, widest layer … stars. The same design of the chest of drawers I’d once painted in that dilapidated cottage.

You are beautiful, he whispered down the bond. So are you. I know. I laughed, pulling away. Prick.

The floorboards thudded behind me, and then I was being gently but forcibly moved to the side. It happened so fast I barely had time to realize that Cassian had gone storming past—right out the front door. To my sister.

Hell yeahhhh get her in her placee

But Nesta only stared at him, her nose crinkling. Stared, then snorted—and walked away. As if he were nothing. As if he weren’t worth her time. The effort.

Bitchhhhhh

“I’ve been thinking.” “Should I be worried?” I slapped his boots, and

“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.”

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.