A Court of Wings and Ruin (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #3)

by Sarah J. Maas

And it was precisely because of it that I said, “I love you.” His head lifted, eyes churning. “There was a time when I dreamed of hearing that,” he murmured. “When I never thought I’d hear it from you.” He gestured to the tent—to Adriata beyond it. “Our trip here was the first time I let myself … hope.” To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are answered.

If Rhysand was Night Triumphant, I was the star that only glowed thanks to his darkness, the light only visible because of him.

So Elain silently cried, the tears so unending that I wondered if it was some sign of her heart bleeding out. Some sliver of hope that had shattered today. That Graysen would still love her, still marry her—and that love would trump even a mating bond.

😭😭😭

I’d never seen anything like it—the skill and precision. It was like a dance. I must have said it aloud because Mor replied, “For him, that’s what battle is. A symphony.”

Hmmm

“You do not fear,” Rhys breathed. “You do not falter. You do not yield. You go in, you get her, and you come out again.” I nodded again, holding his stare. “Remember that you are a wolf. And you cannot be caged.”

I would have waited five hundred more years for you. A thousand years. And if this was all the time we were allowed to have … The wait was worth it.

“He calls himself the Prince of Merchants,” Drakon said. “Apparently, he discovered the human queens were traitors months ago, and has been gathering an independent human army to face Hybern ever since. He managed to find Queen Vassa—and together they rallied this army.” Drakon shrugged. “He told me that he’s got three daughters who live here. And that he failed them for many years. But he would not fail them this time.” The ships at the front of the human armada became clear, along with the gold lettering on their sides. “He named his three personal ships after them,” Drakon said with a smile. And there, sailing at the front … I beheld the names of those ships. The Feyre. The Elain. And leading the charge against Hybern, flying over the waves, unyielding and without an ounce of fear … The Nesta. With my father … our father at the helm.

“I have no regrets in my life, but this.” His voice shook with every word. “That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta.”

“I will find you again in the next world—the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.”

And even though we had all bathed, as we stood there … there was a grime to us. Like the blood hadn’t entirely washed off. And I realized that home was indeed the same, but we … perhaps we were not.