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

by Sarah J. Maas

I’d filled pages and pages of my sketchbook with him—drawings of his wings, his eyes, his Illyrian tattoos.

His knees too, I'm sure

Not feeling very festive at all, I said sharply, “That you now feel more comfortable with humans than with the High Fae. If you ask me—” “I’m not.” “It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without homes of their own as well.” Lucien stared at me, long and hard. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “Happy Solstice to you, Feyre.”

Girl you are such a bitch

“Are those snow forts?” A nod. Something white shot across the field, white and hard and glistening, and then— Cassian’s yowl echoed off the mountains around us. Followed by, “You bastard!” Rhys’s answering laugh was bright as the sun on snow.

No, that's fine, we don't need plot. Snowball fights are definitely interesting enough to keep me going.

All of us—in our finery for once—lifted ours in suit.

Finery is a word I'd love to never hear again

I glanced to him—my mate, in his finest black jacket, the silver embroidery gleaming in the faelight. That’s it? He arched a brow. Did you want me to keep droning on, or did you want to start celebrating? My lips twitched. You really do keep things casual. Even after all this time, you still don’t believe me. His hand slid behind me and pinched. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I hope you got me a good Solstice present. It was my turn to pinch him, and Rhys laughed, kissing my temple once before sauntering out of the room to no doubt grab more wine.

It must be so uncomfortable to be another person in the room when this shit happens

It occurred to me only when she said the words that none of the gifts in this room had Nesta’s name on them.

Okay I know you didn't think she'd come but maybe this is why???????? Y'all suck.

Elain rushed toward a box near the front of the pile. “This one’s for you,” she declared to our sister.

Thank fuck for Elain honestly

violet eyes

Ugh

He told himself he didn’t want to know who the bastard was who had taken her maidenhead.

Gross

“I want a mountain—with three stars.” The Night Court insignia. “The same that you have on your knees.”

You spend more time talking about his knees than his penis and I simply do not understand

The barriers immediately fell, allowing me in. Allowing me to show him that last gift. What I hoped he’d deem as a gift, too. His hands began shaking around mine, but he said nothing until I’d retreated from his mind. Until we were staring at each other again in silence. His breathing turned ragged, his eyes silver-lined. “You’re sure?” he repeated.

Hppy Solstice, I'd like to get pregnant

Rhys leaned in, brushing a kiss to my neck, right beneath my ear. “Shall we begin tonight, mate?” My toes curled. “That was the plan.”

Oh. Great.

Naked, save for the diamond cuffs at my wrists. I went to remove them, but he murmured, “Leave them.”

Two Titanic moments in one book

“How shall it be, mate?” In his stare, I could have sworn galaxies swirled. In the shadows between his wings, the glorious depths of the night dwelled. “Hard enough to make the pictures fall off,” I reminded him, breathless. He laughed again, low and wicked. “Hold on tight, then.”

This is so criiiiinge

And when my mind could form words, when I could again feel his essence around me, his body still moving in my own, I sent him that image one last time, into the dark and stars—my gift. Perhaps our gift, one day. Rhys spilled into me with a roar, his wings splaying wide.

Wait so she. Sent him an image of their future child. To his mind. And he climaxed. With the image. Of his future child. In his mind.

Even an immortal’s lifetime of painting wouldn’t be enough to capture every facet of him.

Ugh

The painting shone before me: Night Triumphant—and the Stars Eternal.

I hate you

And even when we eventually collapsed on the rug, barely avoiding the broken pictures and vase shards, unable to move for a good long while, that image of my gift remained between us, shimmering as bright as any star. That beautiful, blue-eyed, dark-haired boy that the Bone Carver had once shown me. That promise of the future.

:(

“We have no space at the town house. You and I can barely fit everything in the bedroom. And no one wants to be at the House of Wind.” He again gestured to the magnificent estate around us. “So build a house for us, Feyre. Dream as wildly as you want. It’s yours.” I didn’t have words for it. What cascaded through me. “It—the cost—”

Girl get OVER YOURSELF HE BOUGHT YOU A HOUSE

“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.”

This seems like entirely too many things for one house

The city bells chimed eleven in the morning. A month later, Ressina and I stood near the front door,

A month later from when? The previous chapter? Or the previous sentence?

That had been an endless debate: what color to paint the space? We’d wanted yellow, then decided that it might not display the art well enough. Black and gray were too dreary for the atmosphere we wanted, beige could also clash with the art … So we’d gone with white.

... Okay

The back room, at least, we’d painted brightly—a different color on each wall. Green and pink and red and blue.

Ya know what maybe white was the better choice