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

by Sarah J. Maas

but looking at Mor, I couldn’t explain it, couldn’t understand it, but … I felt it. Like I could indeed go to dinner with her. Talk to her.

“I accept your offer—to work with you. To earn my keep. And help with Hybern in whatever way I can.”

“This bond is … a living thing. An open channel between us, shaped by my powers, shaped … by what you needed when we made the bargain.” “I needed not to be dead when I agreed.” “You needed not to be alone.”

“As long as the people who matter most know the truth, I don’t care about the rest.

The voice was at once the night and the dawn and the stars and the earth, and every inch of my body calmed at the primal dominance in it.

So I followed the bond home.”

“My right knee gets a twinge of pain when it rains. I wrecked it during the War, and it’s hurt ever since.”

“When Amarantha made me kill those two faeries, if the third hadn’t been Tamlin, I would have put the dagger in my own heart at the end.”

and I knew I had not finished whatever … whatever it was I’d been born to do.”

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

Bow, he’d once ordered Tamlin. And now here he was, on his knees before me.

His hands lingered on my legs, wrapping around the back of them.

“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.”

swaggered

“I didn’t. My mother gave it to me as a keepsake, then took it back when I reached maturity—and gave it to the Weaver for safekeeping.” “Why?” “So I wouldn’t waste it.”

Consider our training now officially part of your work requirements with me.”

His mind opened for me.

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

“I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.”

“Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.” My face began heating, and I opened my mouth. To say what, I didn’t know. “Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

“What—literally shout at the tattoo?” “You could try rubbing it on certain body parts and I might come faster.”

HAHAHAHA

Life is better when you’re around.

“The next time you try to take her,” Rhys said to the Attor, “I kill first; ask questions later.”

And his eyes were wide, his mouth split in a grin of wicked delight, as I winnowed in front of him and tackled him into the snow.

“Dinner,” he said. “Tonight. Let’s find out if you, Feyre darling, are all talk—or if you’ll allow a Lord of Night to take you out on the town.”

IM SCREAMING

found Rhysand’s eyes on me. His face was softer, more contemplative than I’d ever seen it, his mouth slightly open.

“Marrying me means a life with a target on your back—and if there were offspring, then a life of knowing they’d be hunted from the moment they were conceived. Everyone knows what happened to my family—and my people know that beyond our borders, we are hated.”

“You sent that music into my cell. Why?” Rhysand’s voice was hoarse. “Because you were breaking. And I couldn’t find another way to save you.”

“Thank you. For everything—for what you did. Then … and now.”

I’d much rather you licked my wounds for me.

Wherever you want to lick me, Feyre.

I had done everything—everything for that love. I had ripped myself to shreds, I had killed innocents and debased myself, and he had sat beside Amarantha on that throne.

Yes, he’d fought for me—but I’d fought harder for him.

“It should have been me.”

“You will feel that way every day for the rest of your life,” Rhysand said. This close, I could smell the sweat on him, the sea-and-citrus scent beneath it. His eyes were soft. I tried to look away, but he held my chin firm. “And I know this because I have felt that way every day since my mother and sister were slaughtered and I had to bury them myself, and even retribution didn’t fix it.” He wiped away the tears on one cheek, then another. “You can either let it wreck you, let it get you killed like it nearly did with the Weaver, or you can learn to live with it.”

“I have two kinds of nightmares: the ones where I’m again Amarantha’s whore or my friends are … And the ones where I hear your neck snap and see the light leave your eyes.”

“There’s the Feyre I adore.”

i cant do this i love them !!!

“But I find myself unable to resist the temptation. The same way you can’t resist watching me whenever we’re out. So territorial.”

Rhys followed that gaze. “Her breasts are rather spectacular, aren’t they? Delicious as ripe apples.”

sir???

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

“He locked you up because he knew—the bastard knew what a treasure you are. That you are worth more than land or gold or jewels.

It’d just been a relief to think that for a moment, he might have been as lonely as me.

im crying

“What got under my skin,” Rhys said, his breathing a bit uneven, “is that you smiled at him.”

And he will never know what it is to look up at the night sky and wish.”

“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.”

im in shambles i love them sm it hurts

To the huntresses who remember to reach back for those less fortunate—and water-wraiths who swim very, very fast.

“Am I supposed to deny,” he drawled, but something sparked in those eyes, “that I find you attractive?”

But it remained, shining faintly, in that hole inside my chest. The hole that was slowly starting to heal over.

One day—one day, I’d bring them all together. If we didn’t die in this war first.

“An emissary wears a golden crown. Is that a tradition in Prythian?” “No,” Rhysand said smoothly, “but she certainly looks good enough in one that I can’t resist.”