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

by Sarah J. Maas

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.

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.

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

“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.”

I was not a pet, not a doll, not an animal. I was a survivor, and I was strong. I would not be weak, or helpless again. I would not, could not be broken. Tamed.

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