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

by Sarah J. Maas

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Not when Rhysand liked to make a spectacle of everything. And found pissing off Tamlin to be an art form. But there he was. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, now stood beside me, darkness leaking from him like ink in water.

“Azriel would want to know that,” Mor was saying. “Azriel can go to hell,” Rhys sniped back. “He likely already knows, anyway.”

I’d taken to situating myself in one of the little lounges overlooking the mountains, and had almost read an entire book in the deep-cushioned armchair, going slowly as I learned new words. But it had filled my time—given me quiet, steadfast company with those characters, who did not exist and never would, but somehow made me feel less … alone.

But the second male, the more classically beautiful of the two … Even the light shied from the elegant planes of his face. With good reason. Beautiful, but near-unreadable. He’d be the one to look out for—the knife in the dark. Indeed, an obsidian-hilted hunting knife was sheathed at his thigh, its dark scabbard embossed with a line of silver runes I’d never seen before.