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

by Sarah J. Maas

“You have a skill set that I need. Rumor has it you caught a Suriel.” “It wasn’t that hard.” “I’ve tried and failed. Twice. But that’s a discussion for another day.

I saw you trap the Middengard Wyrm like a rabbit.” His eyes twinkled. “I need you to help me. To use those skills of yours to track down what I need.”

His eyes twinkle ughhhhhh i love him

“What if you could stand against us—hold your own, a High Lady?” “There are no High Ladies.”

Tam knows and is keeping her powers from herself. He knows shell me much stronger than all of them

“Do you understand what that might mean in an oncoming war? Do you understand how it might destroy you if you don’t learn to control it?”

I began shaking my head. “Tamlin won’t allow it.” “Tamlin isn’t your keeper, and you know it.”

shes so dumb

“I’m his subject, and he is my High Lord—” “You are no one’s subject.”

“I will say this once—and only once,” Rhysand purred, stalking to the map on the wall. “You can be a pawn, be someone’s reward, and spend the rest of your immortal life bowing and scraping and pretending you’re less than him, than Ianthe, than any of us. If you want to pick that road, then fine. A shame, but it’s your choice.” The

“But I know you—more than you realize, I think—and I don’t believe for one damn minute that you’re remotely fine with being a pretty trophy for someone who sat on his ass for nearly fifty years, then sat on his ass while you were shredded apart—”

Damnnnn you tell her rhys baby

“Or,” he plowed ahead, “you’ve got another choice. You can master whatever powers we gave to you, and make it count. You can play a role in this war. Because war is coming one way or another, and do not try to delude yourself that any of the Fae will give a shit about your family across the wall when our whole territory is likely to become a charnel house.”

“Think it over. Take the week. Ask Tamlin, if it’ll make you sleep better. See what charming Ianthe says about it. But it’s your choice to make—no one else’s.”

Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord. Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord. Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord.

Great, beautiful, brutal wings, membranous and clawed like a bat’s,

sentences—Rhysand is interesting; Rhysand is gorgeous; Rhysand is flawless—and

“I want you to talk to me like a person. Start with ‘good morning’ and let’s see where it gets us.”

Fuck yeah. Where are your goddamn manners feyre

“It’s none of your business.” “Right. You’ll probably ignore it, anyway. Sweep it under the rug, like everything else.” “No one asked for your opinion, Rhysand.” “Rhysand?” He chuckled, low and soft. “I give you a week of luxury and you call me Rhysand?”

“You didn’t ask. And why bother? Better to be miserable and alone.”

Straight Up

“Training would draw too much attention,” Tamlin said. “You don’t need to train. I can guard you from whatever comes our way.”

God he pisses me off

“You have three days—” “But we have no gold!” “Do not interrupt me,”

HEs so rude wtf

“Because that’s the way it is. That’s the way my father did it, and his father, and the way my son shall do it.” He offered a smile, and reached for my hand. “Someday.”

Nope.no

“What is it?” Tamlin didn’t hesitate. “You know what it is.”

“You gave that water-wraith your jewelry. Jewelry I gave you.” “We have a damned house full of gold and jewels.” Lucien took a deep breath that sounded a lot like: “Here we go.”

“I know she meant no harm,” he snapped. Lucien held his gaze. “Worse things have happened, worse things can happen. Just relax.” Tamlin’s emerald eyes were feral as he snarled at Lucien, “Did I ask for your opinion?”

Everyone is getting some of tamtams wrath today

Then I was gone. Still there, still seeing through my eyes, but also half looking through another angle in the room, another person’s vantage point—

His head. I had been inside his head, had slid through his mental walls— I stood, chucking my napkin on the table with hands that were unnervingly steady.

I knew who that gift had come from. My

“We’re not finished with this meal,” Tamlin growled. “Oh, get over yoursel...

“I know. But … ” I faced him. Met his stare—the full power of the High Lord of the Spring Court. “I’m harder to kill now. I’m faster, stronger—” “My family was faster and stronger than you. And they were murdered quite easily.” “Then marry someone who can put up with this.”

Around me, no debris had fallen—as if he had shielded me.

He recoiled as if he’d hit something solid. “Feyre,” he rasped. He stepped again—and that line held. “Feyre, please,” he breathed. And I realized that the line, that bubble of protection … It was from me.

A shield. Not just a mental one—but a physical one, too.

“I’ll try,” he breathed. “I’ll try to be better. I don’t … I can’t control it sometimes. The rage. Today was just … today was bad. With the Tithe, with all of it. Today—let’s forget it, let’s just move past it. Please.”

Yeah hell nah

Rhys turned toward me. The grin that had been on his face faltered. “Feyre.” Rhys’s eyes lingered, taking in every detail. “Are you running low on food here?”

dust off Tamlin’s sleeve. Part of me admired the sheer nerve it must have taken. Had Tamlin’s teeth been inches from my throat, I would have bleated in panic. Rhys cut a glance at me. “No, you wouldn’t have. As far as your memory serves me, the last time Tamlin’s teeth were near your throat, you slapped him across the face.” I snapped up my forgotten shields, scowling.

“You end her bargain right here, right now, and I’ll give you anything you want. Anything.” My heart stopped dead. “Are you out of your mind?”

direction. Rhysand merely raised a brow. “I already have everything I want.”

“Eat breakfast with me,” he said. There was a note in those words that made me pause. A note of what I could have sworn was desperation. Worry.

I said, “Don’t you have other things to deal with?”

“Of course I do,” he said, shrugging. “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.”

Ugh!

When we were almost to the table, Rhys said, “I felt a spike of fear this month through our lovely bond. Anything exciting happen at the wondrous Spring Court?” “It was nothing,” I said. Because it was. And it was none of his business.

“Because these days, all I hear through that bond is nothing. Silence. Even with your shields up rather impressively most of the time, I should be able to feel you. And yet I don’t. Sometimes I’ll tug on the bond only to make sure you’re still alive.” Darkness guttered. “And then one day, I’m in the middle of an important meeting when terror blasts through the bond. All I get are glimpses of you and him—and then nothing. Back to silence. I’d like to know what caused such a disruption.”

“It was an argument, and the rest is none of your concern.” “Is it why you look like your grief and guilt and rage are eating you alive, bit by bit?” I didn’t want to talk about it. “Get out of my head.”

“You want my help because it’ll piss off Tamlin.” Shadows danced around his shoulders—as if the wings were trying to take form. “Fine,” he breathed. “I dug that grave myself, with all I did Under the Mountain. But I need your help.”

“I was a prisoner in her court for nearly fifty years. I was tortured and beaten and fucked until only telling myself who I was, what I had to protect, kept me from trying to find a way to end it. Please—help me keep that from happening again. To Prythian.”

Rhys didn’t say another word.

I looked at them and read perfectly: “Rhysand is a spectacular person. Rhysand is the center of my world. Rhysand is the best lover a female can ever dream of.” I set down the paper, wrote out the three sentences, and handed it to him. The claws slammed into my mind a moment later. And bounced harmlessly off a black, glimmering shield of adamant. He blinked. “You practiced.” I rose from the table and walked away. “I had nothing better to do.”

My chest aches

“Since you seem hell-bent on a sedentary lifestyle,” he said, “I thought I’d go one step further and bring your food to you.” My stomach was already twisting with hunger, and I lowered the book into my lap. “Thank you.” A short laugh. “Thank you? Not ‘High lord and servant?’ Or: ‘Whatever it is you want, you can go shove it up your ass, Rhysand.’?” He clicked his tongue. “How disappointing.”

I reached again. Once more, a tendril of his power yanked the plate further back. “Tell me what to do,” he said. “Tell me what to do to help you.”

“Months and months, and you’re still a ghost. Does no one there ask what the hell is happening? Does your High Lord simply not care?”

“Let me help you,” Rhys said. “We went through enough Under the Mountain—” I flinched. “She wins,” Rhys breathed. “That bitch wins if you let yourself fall apart.”

“Like hell it is,” he snarled. A thrum of power caressed my fingers, and then the book sealed shut between my hands.