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“Hello, Feyre darling,” he purred.
a golden fleece,
“Are you running low on food here?”
“No shoe throwing this time?” I could almost see the other words in his eyes. Come on. Play with me.
“I have so many things to deal with that I’m sometimes tempted to unleash my power across the world and wipe the board clean. Just to buy me some damned peace.” He grinned, bowing at the waist. Even that casual mention of his power failed to chill me, awe me. “But I’ll always make time for you.”
He’d trapped me in here; he’d locked me up.
“You’re free,” Mor said tightly. “You’re free.” Not safe. Not protected. Free.
“To Velaris—the City of Starlight.”
“Come on, Feyre. We don’t bite. Unless you ask us to.”
Though there are legends that claim when the world was born, there were … rips in the fabric of the realms. That in the chaos of Forming, creatures from other worlds could walk through one of those rips and enter another world.
a reminder that he’d once bet on me.
like I could disappear into the folds of the world as well, track him across eternity— And so I did.
Rhysand appeared, a solid figure in my world of smoke and stars.
I tried not to shudder as I faced him. “Why blood?” “It doesn’t seem polite to ask.”
I was to be cloistered for his peace of mind.
I think it might be very easy to love you, too, Feyre. Easier to be your friend.”
“To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys.”
“To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are answered.”
He is the golden prince—the hero who will get to keep you as his reward for not dying of stupidity and arrogance.”
“And once Feyre is done killing you,” Rhys smirked, “then I’ll grind your bones to dust.”
Death on swift wings.
I learned your name. Hearing you say it … it was like an answer to a question I’d been asking for five hundred years.
I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end.
“Cruel, beautiful thing.”
