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

by Sarah J. Maas

“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 think my heart knew you were mine long before I ever realized it.”

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 made it after I mastered Void.”

“I have to create, or it was all for nothing. I have to create, or I will crumple up with despair and never leave my bed. I have to create because I have no other way of voicing this.” Her hand rested on her heart, and my eyes burned. “It is hard,” the weaver said, her stare never leaving mine, “and it hurts, but 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.”

I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time.

To the stars who listen, Feyre.

To the dreams that are answered, Rhys.