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

by Sarah J. Maas

Maybe I’d wait until the mating bond snapped into place, until I knew for sure it couldn’t be some mistake, that … that I was worthy of him.

“The nature of the Seasonal Courts,” he said, “is linked to their High Lords, whose magic and will keeps them in eternal spring, or winter, or fall, or summer. It has always been like that—some sort of strange stagnation. But the Solar Courts—Day, Dawn, and Night—are of a more … symbolic nature.

A circular table of black stone occupied the center, while the largest stretch of uninterrupted gray stone wall was covered in a massive map of our world. It had been marked and flagged and pinned,

“We’re called daemati—those of us who can walk into another person’s mind as if we were going from one room to another. We’re rare, and the trait appears as the Mother wills it, but there are enough of us scattered throughout the world

“I’m thinking that I was a lonely, hopeless person, and I might have fallen in love with the first thing that showed me a hint of kindness and safety. And I’m thinking maybe he knew that—maybe not actively, but maybe he wanted to be that person for someone. And maybe that worked for who I was before. Maybe it doesn’t work for who—what I am now.”

“Though there is a third,” Amren said, now looking at Rhysand. “I don’t think you’ve heard from Miryam in … centuries. Interesting.”

Myriam 1st mention

“Only once before was a human Made into an immortal. Interesting that it should happen again right as all the ancient players have returned. But Miryam was gifted long life—not a new body. And you, girl …” She sniffed again, and I’d never felt so laid bare. Surprise lit Amren’s eyes. Rhys just nodded. Whatever that meant. I was tired already. Tired of being assessed and evaluated. “Your very blood, your veins, your bones were Made. A mortal soul in an immortal body.”

Az,” he said, pointing a thumb in his direction, his red Siphon catching the light, “was the bastard of one of the local lords. And if you think the bastard son of a lord is hated,

Azriel could be Ruhns brother. Wings are from father and Shadowsinger is from Mom.

then you can’t imagine how hated the bastard is of a war-camp laundress and a warrior she couldn’t or wouldn’t remember.”

Who is Cassien’s dad?

“Az’s father sent him to our camp for training once he and his charming wife realized he was a shadowsinger.” Shadowsinger. Yes—the title, whatever it meant, seemed to fit. “Like the daemati,” Rhys said to me, “shadowsingers are rare—coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things others can’t.”

VALG Bloodline - Shadowsinger

“They cripple their females so they can keep them for breeding more flawless warriors.” Rhys cringed. “My mother was low-born,” he told me, “and worked as a seamstress in one of their many mountain war-camps.

My power flows and is honed in other ways.” “So difficult, being such a powerful High Lord,” Mor teased.

“Rhys and I made his life a living hell, shadowsinger or no. But Rhys’s mother had known Az’s mother, and took him in.

I would not be weak again. I would not be dependent on anyone else. I would never have to endure the touch of the Attor as it dragged me because I was too helpless to know where and how to hit. Never again. But what Ianthe and Tamlin had said … “You don’t think it sends a bad message if people see me learning to fight—using weapons?” The moment the words were out, I realized the stupidity of them. The stupidity of—of what had been shoved down my throat these past few months.

Azriel just shook his head. “I’ll go. The Prison sentries know me—what I am.”

Helena’s son that created the prison?

“Mor is who I’ll call in when the armies fail and Cassian and Azriel are both dead.” My blood chilled. “So she’s supposed to wait until then?”

Crochan! The Yeilding I bet

“If that day comes, I’ll find a way to break the spell on Amren and unleash her on the world. And ask her to end me first.”

“They only emerge at feeding time, or to deal with restless prisoners. They are nothing but shadows of thought and an ancient spell.”

“No. The Prison is law unto itself; the island may be even an eighth court. But it falls under my jurisdiction, and my blood is keyed to the gates.”

So he is the Dawn Stars grandson

“Where did she come from?” The brooch he’d given her—such a small gift, for a monster who had once dwelled here. “I don’t know. 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. But the rips closed at will, and the creatures could become trapped, with no way home.”

Wyrdgates. Rifts. I bet this happened 15,000 years ago too. Like how the valg got trapped in TOG..

“I think that she is the only one of her kind, and there is no record of others ever having existed. Even the Suriel have numbers, however small. But she—and some of those in the Prison … I think they came from somewhere else. And they have been looking for a way home for a long, long time.”

Maybe the gods from TOG and these prisoners and Amren are from the same world originally.. This is insane

“Long ago, before the High Fae, before man, there was a Cauldron … They say all the magic was contained inside it, that the world was born in it. But it fell into the wrong hands. And great and horrible things were done with it. Things were forged with it. Such wicked things that the Cauldron was eventually stolen back at great cost. It could not be destroyed, for it had Made all things, and if it were broken, then life would cease to be. So it was hidden. And forgotten. Only with that Cauldron could something that is dead be reforged like that.”

Asteri made the fae and the whole world ???