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A Court of Mist and Fury

Book by Sarah J. Maas · 38 quotes · Feyre, A Court Of Mist And Fury, Sarah J Maas

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A Court of Mist and Fury Quotes

“The king rose. 'What a mighty queen you are,' he breathed. And Mor backed away. Step by step. 'What a prize,' the king said, that black gaze devouring her. Azriel's head lifted from where he was sprawled in his own blood, eyes full of rage and pain as he snarled at the king, 'Don't you touch her.' Mor looked at Azriel- and there was real fear there. Fear- and something else. She didn't stop moving until she again kneeled beside him and pressed a hand to his wound. Azriel hissed- but covered her bloody fingers with his own.”

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“Cassian's focus had gone right to Mor, Azriel indulging in all of a glance before scanning the people around them. Most shirked from the spymaster's eyes- though they trembled as they beheld Truth-Teller at his side, the Illyrian blade peeking above his left shoulder. Azriel, his face a mask of beautiful death, silently promised them all endless, unyielding torment, even the shadows shuddering in his wake. I knew why; knew for whom he'd gladly do it. They had tried to sell a seventeen-year-old girl into marriage with a sadist- and then brutalised her in ways I couldn't, wouldn't, let myself consider. And these people now lived in utter terror of the three companions who stood at the dais. Good. They should be afraid of them. Afraid of me.”

FearSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronA Court Of Mist And FuryCassianAzrielMorShadowsingerSpymaster
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“Rhys didn't dare break from his mask, but the light kiss he pressed beneath my ear told me enough. Apology and gratitude- and more apologies. He didn't like this any more than I did. And yet to get what we needed, to buy Azriel time... He'd do it. And so would I. I wondered then, with his hands beneath my breasts and between my legs, what Rhys wouldn't give of himself. Wondered if... if perhaps the arrogance and swagger... if they masked a male who perhaps thought he wasn't worth very much at all.”

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“Lucien had been prepared to take me against my will. Fae males were territorial, dominant, arrogant—but the ones in the Spring Court … something had festered in their training. Because I knew—deep in my bones—that Cassian might push and test my limits, but the moment I said no, he’d back off. And I knew that if … that if I had been wasting away and Rhys had done nothing to stop it, Cassian or Azriel would have pulled me out. They would have taken me somewhere—wherever I needed to be—and dealt with Rhys later. But Rhys … Rhys would never have not seen what was happening to me; would never have been so misguided and arrogant and self-absorbed. He’d known what Ianthe was from the moment he met her. And he’d understood what it was like to be a prisoner, and helpless, and to struggle—every day—with the horrors of both.”

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“...he didn't break his stare. Waiting. Mate. My- mate. This beautiful, strong, selfless male... Who had sacrificed and wrecked himself for his family, his people, and didn't feel it was enough, that he wasn't enough for anyone... Azriel thought he didn't deserve someone like Mor. And I wondered if Rhys... if he somehow felt the same about me.”

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“The sun had barely set as Rhys and I walked hand in hand into the dining room of the House of Wind, and found Mor, Azriel, Amren, and Cassian already seated. Waiting for us. At one, they stood. At one, they looked at me. And as one, they bowed. It was Amren who said, 'We will serve and protect.' They each placed a hand over their heart. Waiting- for my reply. Rhys hadn't warned me, and I wondered if the words were supposed to come from my heart, spoken without agenda or guile. So I voiced them. 'Thank you,' I said, willing my voice to be steady. 'But I'd rather you were my friends before the serving and protecting.' Mor said with a wink, 'We are. But we will serve and protect.' My face warmed, and I smiled at them. My- family.”

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“I'd written to Rhys, How do I tell Cassian and Azriel I don't need them here to protect me? Company is fine, but I don't need sentries. He'd written back, You don't tell them. You set boundaries if they cross a line, but you are their friend- and my mate. They will protect you on instinct. If you kick their asses out of the house, they'll just sit on the roof. I scribbled, You Illyrian males are insufferable. Rhys had just said, Good thing we make up for it with impressive wingspans.”

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“I heard you grew fangs in the forest and killed some Hybern beasts. Good for you, girl.' 'She saved his sorry ass is more like it,' Mor said, filling her glass of wine. 'Poor little Rhys got himself in a bind.' I held out my own glass for Mor to fill. 'He does need unusual amounts of coddling.' Azriel choked on his wine, and I met his gaze0 warm for once. Soft, even. I felt Rhys tense beside me and quickly looked away from the spymaster. A glance at the guilt in Rhys's eyes told me he was sorry. And fighting it. So strange, the High Fae with their mating and primal instincts. So at odds with their ancient traditions and learning.”

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“I heard you grew fangs in the forest and killed some Hybern beasts. Good for you, girl.' 'She saved his sorry ass is more like it,' Mor said, filling her glass of wine. 'Poor little Rhys got himself in a bind.' I held out my own glass for Mor to fill. 'He does need unusual amounts of coddling.' Azriel choked on his wine, and I met his gaze warm for once. Soft, even. I felt Rhys tense beside me and quickly looked away from the spymaster. A glance at the guilt in Rhys's eyes told me he was sorry. And fighting it. So strange, the High Fae with their mating and primal instincts. So at odds with their ancient traditions and learning.”

FunnySarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryAzrielMorAmren
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“Inside the Cauldron was nothing but inky, swirling black. Perhaps the entire universe had come from it. Azriel and Cassian tensed as I laid a hand on the lip. Pain- pain and ecstacy and power and weakness flowed into me. Everything that was and wasn't, fire and ice, light and dark, deluge and drought. The map for creation.”

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“Rhysand opened his mouth, but then the silhouettes of two tall, powerful bodies appeared on the other side of the front door's fogged glass. One of them banged on it with a fist. 'Hurry up, you lazy ass,' a deep male voice drawled from the antechamber beyond. Exhaustion drugged me so heavily that I didn't particularly care that there were wings peeking over thier two shadowy forms. Rhys didn't so much as blink toward the door. 'Two things, Feyre darling.' The pounding continued, followed by the second male murmuring to his companion, 'If you're going to pick a fight with him, do it after breakfast.' That voice- like shadows given form, dark and smooth and... cold. 'I wasn't the one who hauled me out of bed just now to fly down here,' the first one said. Then added, 'Busybody.' I could have sworn a smile tugged on Rhys's lips as he went on, 'One, no one- no one- but Mor and I are able to winnow directly inside this house. it is warded, shielded, and then warded some more. Only those I wish- and you wish- may enter. You are safe here; and safe anywhere in this city, for that matter. Velaris's walls are well protected and have not been breached in five thousand years. No one with ill intent enters this city unless I allow it. So go where you wish, do what you wish, and see who you wish. Those two in the antechamber,' he added, eyes sparkling, 'might not be on that list of people you should bother knowing, if they keep banging on the door like children.' Another pound, emphasised by the first male voice saying, 'You know we can hear you, prick.' 'Secondly,' Rhys went on, 'in regard to the two bastards at my door, it's up to you whether you want to meet them now, or head upstairs like a wise person, take a nap since you're still looking a little peaky, and then change into city-appropriate clothing while I beat the hell out of one of them for talking to his High Lord like that.' There was such light in his eyes. It made him look... younger, somehow. More mortal. So at odds with the icy rage I'd seen earlier when I'd awoken... Awoken on that couch, and then decided I wasn't returning home. Decided that, perhaps, the Spring Court might not be my home.”

FunnySarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryCassianBanterAzriel
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“If you're the most powerful High Lord in history... does that mean the drop I got from you holds more sway over the others?' Why I'd been able to break into his head that one time? 'Give it a try.' He jerked his chin toward me. 'See if you can summon darkness. I won't ask you to try to winnow,' he added with a grin. 'I don't know how I did it to begin with.' 'Will it into being.' I gave him a flat stare. He shrugged. 'Try thinking of me- how good-looking I am. How talented-' 'How arrogant.' 'That, too.' He crossed his arms over his bare chest, the movement making the muscles in his stomach flicker. 'Put a shirt on while you're at it,' I quipped. A feline smile. 'Does it make you uncomfortable?' 'I'm surprised there aren't more mirrors in this house, since you seem to love looking at yourself so much.' Azriel launched into a coughing fit. Cassian just turned away, a hand clamped over his mouth. Rhys's lips twitched. 'There's the Feyre I adore.”

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“First Cassian and Azriel appeared in the doorway. The High Lord's general and shadowsinger- and the most powerful Illyrians in history. They were not the males I had come to know. Clad in battle-black that hugged their muscled forms, their armour was intricate, scaled- their shoulders impossibly broader, their faces a portrait of unfeeling brutality. They reminded me, somehow, of the ebony beasts carved into the pillars they passed. More siphons, I realised, glimmered in addition to the ones atop each of their hands. A Siphon in the centre of their chest. One on either shoulder. One on either knee. For a moment, my knees quaked, and I understood what the camplords had feared in them. If one Siphon was what most Illyrians needed to handle their killing power... Cassian and Azriel had seven each. Seven. The courtiers had the good sense to back away a step as Cassian and Azriel strolled through the crowd, toward the dais. Their wings gleamed, the talons at the apex sharp enough to pierce air- like they'd honed them.”

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“Cassian nudged his bastard-brother-whatever out of the way, Azriel's mighty wings flaring slightly as he balanced himself. 'How the hell did you make that bone ladder in the Middengard Wyrm's lair when you look like your own bones can snap at any moment?' ... I met Cassian's gaze, if only because having Rhysand defend me might very well make me crumble a bit more. And maybe it made me as mean as an adder, maybe I relished being one, but I said, 'How the hell did you manage to survive this long without anyone killing you?' Cassian tipped back his head and laughed, a full, rich sound that bounced off the ruddy stones of the House.”

FunnySarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryCassianBanterAzriel
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“Rhys's face was drawn, his shoulders tense as I gripped them. I knew what to expect, but... even after he told me what he needed me to do, even after I had agreed, he'd been... aloof. Haunted. Worried for me, I realised. And just because of that worry, just to get that tightness off his face, even for these few minutes before we faced his unholy realm beneath that mountain, I said over the wind, 'Amren and Mor told me that the span of an Illyrian male's wings says a lot about the size of... other parts.' His eyes shot to mine, then to pine-tree-coated slopes below. 'Did they now.' I shrugged in his arms, trying not to think about the naked body that night all those weeks ago- though I hadn't glimpsed much. 'They also say Azriel's wings are the biggest.' Mischief danced in those violet eyes, washing away the cold distance, the strain. The spymaster was a black blur against the pale blue sky. 'When we return home, let's get out the measuring stick, shall we?”

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“And there were Mor and Azriel- and Cassian. The three of them dancing together, Mor's head tipped back to the sky, arms up, the starlight gleaming on the pure white of her gown. Dancing as if it might be her last time, flowing between Azriel and Cassian like the three of them were one unit, one being. I looked behind me to find Rhys watching them, his face soft. Sad. Separated for fifty years, and reunited- only to be cleaved apart so soon to fight again for their freedom. Rhys caught my gaze and said, 'Come. There's a better view. Quieter.' He held a hand out to me.' That sorrow, the weight, lingered in his eyes. And I couldn't bear to see it- just as I couldn't bear to see my three friends dancing together as if it was the last time they'd ever do it.”

Sarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryCassianAzrielMorStarfall
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“I'd sent that note to Tamlin... and he'd chosen to ignore it. Just as he'd ignored or rejected nearly all of my requests, acted out of his deluded sense of what he believed was right for my well-being and safety. And Lucien had been prepared to take me against my will. Fae males were territorial, dominant, arrogant- but the ones in the Spring Court... something had festered in their training. Because I knew- deep in my bones- that Cassian might push and test my limits, but the moment I said no, he'd back off. And I knew that if... that if I had been wasting away and Rhys had done nothing to stop it, Cassian or Azriel would have pulled me out. They would have taken me somewhere- wherever I needed to be- and dealt with Rhys later. But Rhys... Rhys would never have not seen what was happening to me, would never have been so misguided and arrogant and self-absorbed. He'd know what Ianthe was from the moment he'd met her. And he'd understood what it was like to be a prisoner, and helpless, and to struggle- every day- with the horrors of both. I had loved the High Lord who had shown me the comforts and wonders of Prythian; I had loved the High Lord who let me have the time and food and safety to paint. Maybe a small part of me might always care for him, but... Amarantha had broken us both. Or broken me so that who he was and what I now was no longer fit. And I could let that go. I could accept that. Maybe it would be hard for a while, but... maybe it'd get better.”

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“You told me about the time with Cassian, but did you and Azriel ever...?' A sharp laugh. 'No. Azriel? After that time with Cassian, I swore off any of Rhys's friends. Azriel's got no shortage of lovers, though, don't worry. He's better at keeping them secret than we are, but... he has them.' 'So if he were ever interested would you...?' The issue, actually, wouldn't be me. It'd be him. I could peel off my clothes right in front of him and he wouldn't move an inch. He might have defied and proved those Illyrian pricks wrong at every turn, but it won't matter if Rhys makes him Prince of Velaris- he'll see himself as a bastard-born nobody, and not good enough for anyone. Especially me.' 'But... are you interested?' 'Why are you asking me such things?' Her voice became tight, sharp. More wary than I'd ever heard. 'I'm still trying to figure out how you all work together.' A snort, that wariness gone. I tried not to look too relieved. 'We have five centuries of tangled history for you to sort through. Good luck.”

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“Azriel- his hands. The scars, I mean,' I said. 'Where did they come from?' Rhys was quiet a moment. Then he said too softly. 'His father had two legitimate sons, both older than Azriel. Both cruel and spoiled. They learned it from their mother, the lord's wife. For the eleven years that Azriel lived in his father's keep, she saw to it he was kept in a cell with no window, no light. They let him out for an hour every day- let him see his mother for an hour once a week. He wasn't permitted to train, or fly, or any of the things his Illyrian instincts roared at him to do. When he was eight, his brothers decided it'd be fun to see what happened when you mixed an Illyrian's quick healing gifts with oil- and fire. The warriors heard Azriel's screaming. But not quick enough to save his hands.' Nausea swamped me. But that still left him with three more years living with them. What other horrors had he endured before he was sent to that mountain-camp? Were- were his brothers punished?' Rhys's face was as unfeeling as the rock and wind and sea around us as he said with lethal quiet. 'Eventually.”

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“Rhys's face was drawn, his shoulders tense as I gripped them. I knew what to expect, but... even after he told me what he needed me to do, even after I had agreed, he'd been... aloof. Haunted. Worried for me, I realised. And just because of that worry, just to get that tightness off his face, even for these few minutes before we faced his unholy realm beneath that mountain, I said over the wind, 'Amren and Mor told me that the span of an Illyrian male's wings says a lot about the size of... other parts.' His eyes shot to mine, then to pine-tree-coated slopes below. 'Did they now.' I shrugged in his arms, trying not to think about the naked body that night all those weeks ago- though I hadn't glimpsed much. 'They also say Azriel's wings are the biggest.' Mischief danced in those violet eyes, washing away the cold distance, the strain. The spymaster was a black blur against the pale blue sky. 'When we return home, let's get the measuring stick, shall we?”

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“There are different kinds of darkness,' Rhys said. I kept my eyes shut. 'There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful.' I pictured each. 'There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.' I only saw the darkness of that dungeon cell; the darkness of the Bone Carver's lair. Cassian swore, but Azriel murmured a soft challenge that had their blades striking again. 'Open your eyes,' I did. And found darkness all around me. Not from me- but from Rhys. As if the sparring ring had been wiped away, as if the world had yet to begin. Quiet. Soft. Peaceful. Lights began twinkling- little stars, blooming irises of blue and purple and white. I reached out a hand toward one, and starlight danced on my fingertips. Far away, in another world perhaps, Azriel and Cassian sparred in the dark, no doubt using it as a training exercise. I shifted the star between my fingers like a coin on the hand of a magician. Here in the soothing, sparkling dark, a steady breath filled my lungs. I couldn't remember the last time I'd done such a thing. Breathed easily. Then the darkness splintered and vanished, swifter than smoke on wind. I found myself blinking back the blinding sun, arm still out, Rhysand still before me. Still without a shirt.”

DarknessSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryCassianAzrielStarlight
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