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March 10 - April 11, 2021
It was easier to not have to explain, anyway. To not have to tell him that though I’d freed him, saved his people and all of Prythian from Amarantha … I’d broken myself apart.
And I didn’t think even eternity would be long enough to fix me.
His face paled, and he stroked a hand down the mare’s cobweb-colored mane. “I was forced to watch as my father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch.”
Nuala and Cerridwen were their names, and I wondered if they’d ever told me.
“Because you were resurrected and reborn by the combined powers of the seven High Lords. If I were you, I’d be curious to see if anything else transferred to me during that process.”
“The King of Hybern has been planning his campaign to reclaim the world south of the wall for over a hundred years,” Rhys said. “Amarantha was an experiment—a forty-nine-year test,
He wants to reclaim the human lands there—perhaps seize the faerie lands, too.
“I’m not a High Lord.” “No, but you were given life by all seven of us. Your very essence is tied to us, born of us.
yes, Feyre—there can be High Ladies. And perhaps you aren’t one of them, but … what if you were something similar? What if you were able to wield the power of seven High Lords at once?
“If you come with me, there is no going back. You will not be allowed to speak of what you see to anyone outside of my court. Because if you do, people will die—my people will die.
Rhys’s smile widened into a grin. “To Velaris—the City of Starlight.”
The city has not been breached in five thousand years.
“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.
“I promise I won’t let the wind destroy your hair.”
“I’m thinking that I must have been a fool in love to allow myself to be shown so little of the Spring Court.
I’m thinking there’s a great deal of that territory I was never allowed to see or hear about and maybe I would have lived in ignorance forever like some pet.
“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.”
“Your very blood, your veins, your bones were Made. A mortal soul in an immortal body.”
“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.”
Only pure-blood pricks get Siphons—born and bred for the killing power.
Jurian—the ancient warrior whose soul Amarantha had imprisoned within that hideous ring as punishment for killing her sister. The ring that contained his eye
Go to the Prison. Talk to the Bone Carver.”
“This bond is … a living thing. An open channel between us, shaped by my powers, shaped … by what you needed when we made the bargain.”
Mor is my … court overseer. She looks after the dynamics between the Court of Nightmares and the Court of Dreams, and runs both Velaris and the Hewn City.
Amren?” “Her duties as my Second make her my political adviser, walking library, and doer of my dirty work.
“You have a kernel of all our power—like having seven thumbprints.
If we’ve hidden something, if we’ve made or protected it with our power, no matter where it has been concealed, you will be able to track it through that very magic.”
“You are an immortal faerie—with a human heart.
“My sisters, Nesta and Elain Archeron.”
My tattoo, I realized, had been made with Illyrian markings. Perhaps Rhys’s own way of wishing me luck and glory while facing Amarantha.
Nesta’s spirit of steel and flame.
Yes, he’d fought for me—but I’d fought harder for him.
And he had the nerve once his powers were back to shove me into a cage.
The nerve to say I was no longer useful; I was to be cloistered for his peace of mind.
Varian, Cresseida’s younger brother, captain of Tarquin’s guard, and Prince of Adriata.
No one was my master—but I might be master of everything, if I wished. If I dared.
“To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys.”
He picked up his glass, his gaze so piercing that I wondered why I had bothered blushing at all for Tarquin.
“To the stars who listen—and the dreams that...
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“It is the Leshon Hakodesh. The Holy Tongue.”
The books were written in an ancient language
At least you make up for your shameless flirting by being one hell of a High Lord.
“There is an island in a forgotten, stormy part of the sea. A vast, lush island, shielded
And on that island, Miryam and Drakon still live. With their children. With both of their peoples. Fae and human and those in between. Side by side.
“I have known many High Lords,”
“Cruel ones, cunning ones, weak ones, powerful ones. But never one that dreamed. Not as he does.”
My mother gave it to the Weaver. And then she told me that if I were to marry or mate, then the female would either have to be smart or strong enough to get it back. And if the female wasn’t either of those things, then she wouldn’t survive the marriage.
“So I won my wedding ring without even being asked if I wanted to marry you.”
