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Sarah J. Maas

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“Nesta stretched out her legs, leaning her bruised palms on the stone. 'Enjoy your exercises.' Cassian bristled. But he held out his hand again. 'Please.' She'd never heard him say that word. It was a rope thrown between them. He'd meet her halfway- let her win the power battle, admit defeat, if she would just get off the rock. She told herself to get up, to take that outstretched hand. But she couldn't Couldn't bring her body to rise. His hazel eyes were bright with pleading in the morning sun, the wind dancing in his dark hair. Like he was made from these mountains, crafted from wind and stone. He was so beautiful. Not in the way that Azriel and Rhys were beautiful, but in an uncut way. Savage and unrelenting. The first time she'd seen Cassian, she couldn't take her eyes off him. She felt like she'd spent her life surrounded by boys, and then a man- a male, she supposed- had suddenly appeared. Everything about him had radiated that confident, arrogant masculinity. It had been heady and overwhelming, and all she'd wanted, all she'd wanted for so many months, was to touch him, smell him, taste him. Get close to that strength and throw everything she was against it because she knew he'd never break, never falter, never balk. But the light in his eyes dimmed as he lowered his hand. She deserved his disappointment. Deserved his resentment and disgust. Even if it carved something vital from her. 'Tomorrow, then,' Cassian said. He didn't speak to her again for the rest of the day.”

“You could have ruled the world with your power,' he said carefully. 'I don't want to rule the world.' Her eyes were unguarded in a way he had never seen. Mate, she had called him. 'What do you want?' Cassian managed to ask, voice rasping. She smiled, and damn if it wasn't the loveliest thing he'd ever seen. 'You.' 'You've had me from the moment you met me.' She tucked a strand of hair behind an arched ear. 'I know.' He brushed a kiss over her mouth. But Nesta said, 'I want a disgustingly ornate mating ceremony. He laughed, pulling away. 'Really?' 'Why not?' 'Because I'll never hear the end of it from Azriel and Mor.' Or the Illyrians. Nesta considered. Then pulled something out of her pocket. A small biscuit, swiped from a tray in the birthing room. 'Then here. Food. From me to you, my mate. That's the official ritual, isn't it? The sharing of food from one mate to the other?' He choked. 'These are my two options? A frilly mating ceremony or a stale biscuit?' Her face filled with such true light, it nearly stole the breath from him. 'Yes.' So Cassian laughed again, and folded her fingers around the pathetic biscuit, leaning to whisper in her ear, 'We'll make a coronation of it, Nes.' 'I already have a crown,' she said. 'I just want you.”

“He went still as death as I took one of his hands in my own and traced a star shape on the top of his palm, playing with the glimmer and shadows, until it looked like one of the stars that had hit us. His fingers tightened on mine, and I looked up. He was smiling at me. And looked so un-High-Lord-like with the glowing dust on the side of his face that I grinned back. I hadn’t even realized what I’d done until his own smile faded, and his mouth parted slightly. “Smile again,” he whispered. I hadn’t smiled for him. Ever. Or laughed. Under the Mountain, I had never grinned, never chuckled. And afterward … And this male before me … my friend … For all that he had done, I had never given him either. Even when I had just … I had just painted something. On him. For him. I’d—painted again. So I smiled at him, broad and without restraint. “You’re exquisite,” he breathed.”

“I have no interest in prisioners or battling today,” Manon said. The Queen of Terrasen gave her a grin. “Good.” Manon turned away, barking at her Thirteen to get to their mounts. “I suppose,” the queen went on, “that makes you smarter than Baba Yellowlegs.” Manon stopped, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing of the grass or sky or tress. Asterin whirled. “What do you know of Baba Yellowlegs?” The queen gave a low chuckle, despite the warning growl from the Fae warrior. Slowly, Manon looked over her shoulder. The queen tugged apart the lapels of her tunic, revealing a necklace of thin scars as the wind shifted. The scent - iron and stone and pure hatred - hit Manon like a rock to the face. Every Iroonteeth witch knew the scent that forever lingered on those scars: Witch Killer.”

“What?” Lucien laughed. “Yes—all those female faeries around you were females for Tamlin to pick. It’s an honor to be chosen, but it’s his instincts that select her.” “But you were there—and other male faeries.” My face burned so hot that I began sweating. That was why those three horrible faeries had been there—and they’d thought that just by my presence, I was happy to comply with their plans. “Ah.” Lucien chuckled. “Well, Tam’s not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we’re free to mingle. Though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.” He shrugged off that invisible hand a second time, and his eyes fell upon the hills. “You’re lucky I found you when I did, though,” he said. “Because he would have smelled you, and claimed you, but it wouldn’t have been Tamlin who brought you into that cave.” His eyes met mine, and a chill went over me. “And I don’t think you would have liked it. Tonight is not for lovemaking.”

“For all his arrogance, the opinions of his friends, his family, mattered deeply. None of them would ever chide him for his failure, but he'd punish himself for it. Nesta brushed her fingers against Cassian's in silent understanding. HIs own curled against hers, meeting her stare as if to say, See? We're the same after all.”

“Nesta threw another series of punches, and Cassian knew she was leading up to the knockout blow. Two left jabs and a right hook that slammed into the wood so hard it splintered. And then she stopped, her first pressed against the wood. Her panting breath swirled from her mouth in the frigid rain. Slowly, she straightened, fist lowering, steam rippling through her teeth as she turned. He caught a flicker of silver fire in her eyes, then it vanished. Lucien had gone still. Nesta stalked toward the two males. She met Lucien's stare as she approached the archway, and said nothing before continuing into the House. As if words were beyond her. Only when her footsteps vanished did Lucien say, 'Mother spare you.' Cassian was already walking to the wooden beam. A small disc of impact lay in its centre, through the padding, all the way to the wood itself. It glowed. Cassian raised shaking fingers to it. To the burn mark, still sparking like an ember. The entire wood block was smouldering from within. He touched his palm to it. The wood was cold as ice. The block dissolved into a pile of cinders. Cassian stared in stunned silence, the smoking wood hissing in the rain. Lucien came up beside him. He only said again, voice solemn, 'Mother spare you all.”

“So, again, I will say this only once,” Rhys went on, his expression smoothing into lethal calm, dragging me from the colors and light and shadows gathering in my mind. “Feyre did not dishonor or betray Tamlin. I revealed the mating bond months later—and she gave me hell for it, don’t worry. But now that you’ve found your mate in a similar situation, perhaps you will try to understand how it felt. And if you can’t be bothered, then I hope you’re wise enough to keep your mouth shut, because the next time you look at my mate with that disdain and disgust, I won’t bother to explain it again, and I will rip out your fucking throat.”

“This eye,' Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. 'It can see things that others... can't. Spells, glamours... Perhaps it can help me find her. And break her curse.' He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. 'I'm not needed here. I'll fight if you need me to, but...' He offered me a grim smile. 'I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I'm willing to bet I'm not longer welcome at h- the Spring Court.' Home, he had almost said. 'But I cannot sit here and do nothing. Those queens with their armies- there is a threat in that regard, too. So use me. Send me. I will find Vassa, see if she can... bring help.”

“I'm here,' he said. 'We made it.' She trembled harder, as if all that she had experienced and done were now breaking free in aftershocks. 'I'm here,' he said again, and leaned down to kiss the side of her neck. 'I'm here.' He kissed below her ear. Her hands came up caressing a line down his back. She stopped shaking. 'I'm here,' he said, kissing the base of her throat.”

“The room behind me was dark. "Thief," intoned a lovely voice in the blackness. "You do know," Ianthe tittered from outside the cottage, her steps slowing into a walk, "that we'll have to kill whoever is inside there with you. Selfish of you, Feyre." I panted, holding the door open, making sure they couldn't see me on the other side. "You have seen my twin," the Weaver hissed softly- with a hint of wonder. "I smell him on you." Outside, Ianthe and the guard grew closer. Closer and closer. Somewhere deep in the room, I felt her move. Felt her stand. And take a step toward me. "What are you," the Weaver breathed. "Feyre, you can be quite tedious," Ianthe said. Right outside. I could barely make out her pale robes through the crack between the door and the threshold. "Do you think you can ambush us in there? I saw your shield. You're drained. And I do not think your glowing trick will help." The Weaver's dress rustled as she crept closer in the gloom. "Who did you bring, little wolf? Who did you bring to me?" Ianthe and her two guards stepped over the threshold. Then another step. Past the open door. They didn't see me in the shadows behind it. "Dinner," I said to the Weaver, whirling around the door- to it's outside face. And let go of the handle. Just as the door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the cottage, I saw the ball of faelight that Ianthe lifted to illuminate the room. Saw the horrible face of the Weaver, that mouth of stumped teeth opening wide with delight and unholy hunger. A death-god of old- starved for life. With a beautiful priestess before her. I was already hurtling for the trees when the guards and Ianthe began screaming.”