A Court of Mist and Fury (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #2)

by Sarah J. Maas

“A fitting end, eh?” A fitting end would have been me in a grave, burning in hell.

So unaware of the true extent of how broken and dark I was inside. How unfit I was to be clothed in white when my hands were so filthy.

he appeared, despite his perfection, almost normal.

“The wind will rip the gown right off.” His grin became feline. “I’ll take the stairs,”

“Don’t let these old busybodies boss you around.” Cassian said, “Pot. Kettle. Black.”

“The camp lord practically shit himself with excitement the day Az was dumped in our camp. But me … once my mother weaned me and I was able to walk, they flew me to a distant camp, and chucked me into the mud to see if I would live or die.” “They would have been smarter throwing you off a cliff,” Mor said, snorting.

I would not be weak again. I would not be dependent on anyone else.

“I once lived in a place where the opinion of others mattered. It suffocated me, nearly broke me.

I dared a glance at Rhys, and there was something like devastation on his beautiful face. It was gone in a blink.

not know you. You belong to every court.” “So I’m your huntress and thief?” His hands slid down to cup the backs of my knees as he said with a roguish grin, “You are my salvation, Feyre.”

His words were a lethal caress as he said, “Did you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you?”

“There are good days and hard days for me—even now. Don’t let the hard days win.”

“It’s been a few centuries since someone got under Cassian’s skin that easily. Too bad they’re both inclined to kill the other.”

“I couldn’t decide which scrap of lace I wanted you to wear, so I brought you a few to choose from.”

“You could try rubbing it on certain body parts and I might come faster.”

PLEASEEEEEE

his face cold and beautiful as death.

“Rhys is out of shape and won’t admit it, but Azriel is too polite to beat him into the dirt.” Rhys looked anything but out of shape. Cauldron boil me, what the hell did they eat to look like that?

“There are different kinds of darkness,” Rhys said. I kept my eyes shut. “There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful.” I pictured each. “There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.”

“Touch me, Cassian, and I’ll remove your favorite part. Small as it might be.”

No one was my master—but I might be master of everything, if I wished. If I dared.

“To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys.” He picked up his glass, his gaze so piercing that I wondered why I had bothered blushing at all for Tarquin. Rhys clinked his glass against mine. “To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are answered.”

“You should see how I make her beg,”

hot

The bed. “I asked for two,”

I LOVE THIS TROPE

“that I look at you and feel like I’m dying. Like I can’t breathe. I’m thinking that I want you so badly I can’t concentrate half the time I’m around you, and this room is too small for me to properly bed you. Especially with the wings.”

“I wonder if some part of me knew what was waiting for me. That I would never be a gentle grower of things, or someone who burned like fire—but that I would be quiet and enduring and as faceted as the night. That I would have beauty, for those who knew where to look, and if people didn’t bother to look, but to only fear it … Then I didn’t particularly care for them, anyway. I wonder if, even in my despair and hopelessness, I was never truly alone.

“Is there a point to your questions, other than to hear yourself talk?”

“I don’t deserve you.” My heart strained. He meant it—truly felt that way. I stroked his hair again. And I said to him, the words the only sounds in the silent, dark city, “We deserve each other. And we deserve to be happy.”

And the world cleaved in two as the bond snapped.

Thats it. Im broken

And so Tamlin unwittingly led the High Lady of the Night Court into the heart of his territory.

YES FEYRE ILY