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“Love won’t feed a hungry belly,”
“We need hope, or else we cannot endure.
It was impressive—truly impressive—to see Nesta go ramrod straight, to square her shoulders and look down her nose at the young acolyte, a queen without a throne.
“Because when you look at it—when you acknowledge it—that’s when it becomes real. That’s when it can kill you.”
“You don’t hold on to power by being everyone’s friend.
“Cauldron save you,” he said, reciting the words of a prayer that was probably older than the mortal realm. “Mother hold you. Pass through the gates, and smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil. Feel no pain.” Tamlin’s voice wavered, but he finished. “Go, and enter eternity.”
High Lord of Prythian indeed. High Lord of Foolery was more like it.
“Don’t feel bad for one moment about doing what brings you joy.”
Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers, offsetting his pale skin and blue eyes so deep they were violet, even in the firelight. They twinkled with amusement as he beheld me.
She’d been made differently, from something harder and stronger than bone and blood. She was as different from the humans around us as I had become.
My hateful, cold sister had been willing to brave Prythian to rescue me.
“Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.”
