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A Court of Mist and Fury

Book by Sarah J. Maas · 50 quotes · Feyre, A Court Of Mist And Fury, Sarah J Maas

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A Court of Mist and Fury Quotes

“What's wrong?' His wings were nowhere to be seen, not even the shadow of them. 'I'm debating asking you to stay tomorrow.' I crossed my arms. 'I thought I was going.' Don't lock me up in this house, don't shove me aside- He ran a hand through his hair. 'What I ahve to be tomorrow, who I have to become, is not... it's not something I want you to see. How I will treat you, treat others...' 'The mask of the High Lord,' I said quietly. 'Yes.' He took a seat on the bottom step of the stairs. I remained in the centre of the foyer as I asked carefully. 'Why don't you want me to see that?' 'Because you've only started to look at me like I'm not a monster, and I can't stomach the idea of anything you see tomorrow, being beneath the mountain, putting you back into that place where I found you.' Beneath the mountain- underground. Yes, I'd forgotten that. Forgotten I'd see the court Amarantha had modelled her own after, that I'd be trapped beneath the earth... But with Cassian and Azriel, and Mor. With... him. I waited for the panic, the cold sweat. Neither came. 'Let me help. In whatever way I can.' Blackness shaded the starlight in those eyes. 'The role you will have to play is not a pleasant one.' 'I trust you,' I sat beside him on the stairs, close enough that the heat of his body warmed the chill night air clinging to my overcoat.”

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“I pinched the rock-hard muscle of his forearm. Rhys flashed me a wicked grin before he titled down- Mountains and snow and trees and sun and utter free fall through wisps of cloud- A breathless scream came out of me as we plummeted. Throwing my arms around his neck was instinct. His low laugh ticked my nape. 'You're willing to brave my brand of darkness and put up one of your own, willing to go to a watery grave and take on the Weaver, but a little free fall makes you scream?' 'I'll leave you to rot next time you have a nightmare,' I hissed, my eyes still shut and body locked as he snapped out his wings to ease to a steady glide. 'No, you won't,' he crooned. 'You liked seeing me naked too much.' 'Prick.' His laugh rumbled again me. Eyes closed, the wind roaring like an animal, I adjusted my position, gripping him tighter.”

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“And then Rhysand appeared. He had released the damper on his power, on who he was. His power filled the throne room, the castle, the mountain. The world. It had no end and no beginning. No wings. No weapons. No sign of the warrior. Nothing but the elegant, cruel High Lord the world believed him to be. His hands were in his pockets, his black tunic seeming to gobble up the light. And on his head sat a crown of stars. No sign of the male who had been drinking on the roof; no sign of the fallen prince kneeling on his bed. The full impact of him threatened to sweep me away. Here- here was the most powerful High Lord ever born. The face of dreams and nightmares. Rhys's eyes met mine briefly from across the room as he strolled between the pillars. To the throne that was his by blood and sacrifice and might. My own blood sang at the power that thrummed from him, at the sheer beauty of him.”

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“Rhysand whispered to me, his other hand now stroking the bare skin of my ribs in lazy indolent circles, 'Try not to let it go to your head.' I knew they could all hear it. So did he. I stared at their bowed heads, my heart hammering, but said with moonlight smoothness, 'What?' Rhys's breath caressed my ear, the twin to the breath he'd brushed against it merely an hour ago in the skies. 'That every male in here is contemplating what they'd be willing to give up in order to get that pretty, red mouth of yours on them.' I waited for the blush, the shyness, to creep in. But I was beautiful. I was strong. I had survived- triumphed. As Mor had survived in this horrible, poisoned house. So I smiled a bit, the first smile of my new mask. Let them see the pretty, red mouth, and my white, straight teeth. His hand slid higher up my thigh, the propriety touch of a male who knew he owned someone body and soul.”

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“But it seems true. Tamlin's pet is now owned by another master.' 'You should see how I make her beg,' Rhys murmured, nudging my neck with his nose. Keir clasped his hands behind his back, 'I assume you brought her here to make a statement.' 'You know everything I do is a statement.' 'Of course. This one, it seems, you enjoy putting in cobwebs and crowns.' Rhys's hand paused, and I sat straighter at the tone, the disgust. And I said to Keir in a voice that belonged to another woman, 'Perhaps I'll put a leash on you.' Rhys's approval tapped against my mental shield, the hand at my ribs now making lazy circles. 'She does enjoy playing,' he mused onto my shoulder.”

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“I let my head drop back against his shoulder. I let go of the part of me that heard their words- whore, whore, whore- Let go of the part that said those words alongside them- traitor, liar, whore- And I just became. I became the music, and the drums, and the wild, dark thing in the High Lord's arms. His eyes were wholly glazed- and not with power or rage. Something red-hot and edged with glittering darkness exploded in my mind.”

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“I felt it. Felt- him. The very rock beneath my feet seemed to tremble- a pulsing steady beat. His footsteps. As if the mountain shuddered at each touch. Everyone in that room went still as death. As if petrified that their very breathing would draw the attention of the predator now strolling toward us.”

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“He is lucky to have all of you.' 'No,' she said softly- more gently than I'd ever heard. 'We are lucky to have him, Feyre.' I turned from the door. 'I have known many High Lords, ' Amren continued, studying her paper. 'Cruel ones, cunning ones, weak ones, powerful ones. But never one that dreamed. Not as he does.' 'Dreams of what?' I breathed. 'Of peace. Of freedom. Of a world united, a world thriving. Of something better- for all of us.”

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“If you've moved elsewhere, I wrote after getting home from Amren's apartment, you could have at least given me the keys to this house. I keep leaving the door unlocked when I go out. It's getting to be too tempting for the neighbourhood burglars. No response. The letter didn't even vanish. I tried again after breakfast the next day- the morning of Starfall. Cassian says you're sulking in The House of Wind. What un-High-Lord-like behaviour. What of my training. Again, no reply. My guilt and- and whatever else it was- started to shift. I could barely keep from shredding the paper as I wrote my third one after lunch. Is this punishment? Or do people in your Inner Circle not get second chances if they piss you off? You're a hateful coward.”

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“I've had lovers,' Mor clarified, 'but... I get bored. And Cassian has had them, too, so don't get that unrequited-love, moony-woo-woo look. He just wants what he can't have, and it's irritated him for centuries that I walked away and never looked back.' 'Oh, it drives him insane,' Rhys said from behind me, and I jumped. But the High Lord was circling me. I crossed my arms as he paused and smirked. 'You look like a woman again.' 'You really know how to compliment females, cousin,' Mor said, and patted him on the shoulder.”

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“Copy these sentences,' he drawled from across the table, handing me a piece of paper. I looked at them and read perfectly. 'Rhysand is a spectacular person. Rhysand is the centre of my world. Rhysand is the best lover a female can ever dream of.' I set down the paper, wrote out the three sentences, and handed it to him.”

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“And will I still be bound by this bargain at Nynsar, too?' Silence. I pushed. 'After- after what happened-' I couldn't mention specifics on what had occurred Under the Mountain, what he'd done for me during the fight with Amarantha, what he'd done after- 'I think we can agree that I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing.' His gaze was unflinching. I blazed on. 'Isn't it enough that we're all free?' I splayed my tattooed hand on the table. 'By the end, I thought you were different, thought that it was all a mask, but taking me away, keeping me here...' I shook my head, unable to find the words vicious, clever enough to convince him to end this bargain. His eyes darkened. 'I'm not your enemy, Feyre.' 'Tamlin says you are.' I curled the fingers of my tattooed hand into a fist. 'Everyone else says you are.' 'And what do you think?' He leaned back in his chair again, but his face was grave. 'You're doing a damned good job of making me agree with them.' 'Liar,' he purred. 'Did you even tell your friends about what I did to you Under the Mountain?' So that comment at breakfast had gotten under his skin. 'I don't want to talk about anything related to that. With you or them.' 'No, because it's much easier to pretend it never happened and let them coddle you.' 'I don't let them coddle me-' 'They had you wrapped up like a present yesterday. Like you were his reward.' 'So?' 'So?' A flicker of rage, then it was gone. 'I'm ready to be taken home,' I merely said. 'Where you'll be cloistered for the rest of your life, especially once you start punching our heirs. I can't wait to see what Ianthe does when she gets her hands on them.' 'You don't seem to have a particularly high opinion of her.' Something cold and predatory crept into his eyes. 'No, I can't say that I do.”

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“What if you could stand against us- hold your own, a High Lady?' 'There are no High Ladies.' HIs brows furrowed, but he shook his head. 'We'll talk about that later, too. But, 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? What if you could blend into darkness, or shape-shift, or freeze over an entire room- an entire army?”

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“He stopped a hand's breath away, his golden face tight. 'I told you once, and I'll tell you again,' he said. 'I am not your enemy.' 'And I told you once, so I'll tell you again. You're Tamlin's enemy. So I suppose that makes you mine.' 'Does it?' 'Free me from my bargain and let's find out.' 'I can't do that.' 'Can't or won't?”

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“Get out.' He pointed toward the staircase. 'She'll come to you when she's ready.' Rhysand just brushed an invisible fleck of dust off Tamlin's sleeve. Part of me admired the sheer nerve it must have taken. Had Tamlin's teeth been inches from my throat, I would have bleated in panic. Rhys cut a glance at me. 'No, you wouldn't have. As far as your memory serves me, the last time Tamlin's teeth were near your throat, you slapped him across the face.' I snapped up my forgotten shields, scowling. 'Shut your mouth,' Tamlin said, stepping further between us. 'And get out.”

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“What the hell happened to you?' Rhysand said before the Night Court had fully appeared around us. 'Why don't you just look inside my head?' Even as I said it, the words had no bite. I didn't bother to shove him as I stepped out of his hold. He gave me a wink. 'Where's the fun in that?' I didn't smile. 'No shoe throwing this time?' I could almost see the other words in his eyes. Come on. Play with me. I headed for the stairs that would take me to my room. 'Eat breakfast with me,' he said. There was a note in those words that made me pause. A note of what I could have sworn was desperation. Worry. I twisted, my loose clothes sliding off my shoulders, my waist. I hadn't realised how much weight I'd lost. Despite things creeping back to normal. I said, 'Don't you have other things to deal with?' 'Of course I do,' he said, shrugging. 'I have so many things to deal with that I'm sometimes tempted to unleash my power across the world and wipe the board clean. Just to buy me some damned peace.' He grinned, bowing at the waist. Even that casual mention of his power failed to chill me, awe me. 'But I'll always make time for you.' I was hungry- I hadn't yet eaten. And that was indeed worry glimmering behind the cocky, insufferable grin.”

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“Tired. I was so- tired. When we were almost to the table, Rhys said, 'I felt a spike of fear this month through our lovely bond. Anything exciting happen at the wondrous Spring Court?' 'It was nothing,' I said. Because it was. And it was none of his business. I glanced sidelong at him- and rage, not worry- flicked in those eyes. I could have sworn the mountain beneath us trembled in response. 'If you know,' I said coldly, 'why even ask about it?' I dropped into my chair as he slid into his. He said quietly, 'Because these days, all I hear through the bond is nothing. Silence. Even with your shields up rather impressively most of the time, I should be able to feel you. And yet I don't. Sometimes I'll tug on the bond only to make sure you're still alive.' Darkness guttered. 'And then one day, I'm in the middle of an important meeting when terror blasts through the bond. All I get are glimpses of you and him- and then nothing. Back to silence. I'd like to know what caused such a disruption.' I served myself from the platters of food, barely caring what had been laid on the table. 'It was an argument, and the rest is none of your concern.' 'Is it why you look like grief and guilt and rage are eating you alive, bit by bit?”

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“I'm not going to be a part of this war you think is coming. You say I should be a weapon, not a pawn- they seem like the same to me. The only difference is who's wielding it.' 'I want your help, not to manipulate you,' he snapped. His flare of tempter made me at last lift my head. 'You want my help because it'll piss off Tamlin.' Shadows danced around his shoulders- as if the wings were trying to take form. 'Fine,' he breathed. 'I dug that grave myself, with all I did Under the Mountain. But I need your help. Again, I could feel the other unspoken words. Ask me why; push me about it. And again, I didn't want to. Didn't have the energy to. Rhys said quietly, 'I was a prisoner to her court for nearly fifty years. I was tortured and beaten and fucked until only telling myself who I was, what I had to protect, kept me from trying to find a way to end it. Please- help me keep that from happening again. To Prythian.' Some distant part of my heart ached and bled at the words, at what he'd laid bare. But Tamlin had made exceptions- he'd lightened the guards' presence, allowed me to roam a bit more freely. He was trying. We were trying. I wouldn't jeopardize that. So I went back to eating. Rhys didn't say another word.”

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“Start copying the alphabet. Until your letters are perfect. And every time you get through a round, lower and raise your shield. Until that is second nature. I'll be back in an hour.' 'What?' 'Copy. The. Alphabet. Until-' 'I heard what you said.' Prick. Prick, prick, prick. 'Then get to work,' Rhys uncoiled to his feet. 'And at least have the decency to only call me a prick when you shields are back up.”

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“You're going to be a High Lord's wife,' Rhys said. 'You'll be expected to maintain your own correspondences, perhaps even give a speech or two. And the Cauldron knows what else he and Ianthe will deem appropriate for you. Make menus for dinner parties, write thank-you letters for all those wedding gifts, embroider sweet phrases on pillows... It's a necessary skill. And, you know what? Why don't we throw in shielding while we're at it. Reading and shielding- fortunately, you can practice both together.' 'They are both necessary skills,' I said through my teeth, 'but you are not going to teach me.' 'What else are you going to do with yourself? Paint? How's that going these days, Feyre?”

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“The only evidence I had at all that Rhys remained on the premises were the blank copies of the alphabet, along with several sentences I was to write every day, swapping out words, each one more obnoxious that the last. Rhys is the most handsome High Lord. Rhys is the most delightful High Lord. Rhys is the most cunning High Lord. Every day, one miserable sentence- with one changing word of varying arrogance and vanity. And every day, another simple set of instructions: shield up, shield down, shield up, shield down. Over and over and over.”

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“First the shadows started- plumes of them from his back. And then, as if his rage loosened his grip on that beast he'd once told me he hated to yield to, those wings became flesh. Great, beautiful, brutal wings, membranous and clawed like a bat's, dark as night and strong as hell. Even the way he stood seemed altered- steadier, grounded. Like some final piece of him had clicked into place. But Rhysand's voice was still midnight-soft...”

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“The bond between us went taut, and my lingering mental shields collapsed. And for a heartbeat, just as it had happened Under the Mountain, I flashed from my body to his- from my eyes to his own. I had not realised... how I looked... My face was gaunt, my cheekbones sharp, my blue-grey eyes dull and smudged with purple beneath. The full lips- my father's mouth- were wan, and my collarbones jutted above the thick wool neckline of my sweater. I looked as if... as if rage and grief and despair had eaten me alive, as if I was again starved. Not for food, but... but for joy and life-”

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“Since you're hell-bent on a sedentary lifestyle,' he said, 'I thought I'd go one step further and bring your food to you.' My stomach was already twisting with hunger, and I lowered the book into my lap. 'Thank you.' A short laugh. 'Thank you? Not "High lord and servant?" Or "Whatever it is you want, you can go shove it up your ass, Rhysand"?' He clicked his tongue. 'How disappointing.”

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“I lifted the book, firing two words down the bond between us before I blasted my shields up again. Conversation over. 'Like hell it is,' he snarled. A thrum of power caressed my fingers, and then the book sealed shut between my hands. My nails dug into the leather and paper- to no avail. Bastard. Arrogant, presuming bastard. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to him. And I felt... not hot temper- but icy, glittering rage. I could almost feel that ice at my fingertips, kissing my palms. And I swore there was frost coating the book before I hurled it at his head. He shielded fast enough that it bounced away and slid across the marble floor behind us. 'Good,' he said, his breathing a bit uneven. 'What else do you have, Feyre?' Ice melted to flame, and my fingers curled into fists. And the High Lord of the Night Court honestly looked relieved at the sight of it- of that wrath that made me want to rage and burn. A feeling, for once. Not like that hollow cold and silence. And the thought of returning to that manor with the sentries and the patrols and the secrets... I sank back into my chair. Frozen once more. 'Any time you need someone to play with,' Rhys said, pushing the plate toward me on a star-flecked wind, 'whether it's during our marvellous week together or otherwise, you let me know.' I couldn't muster up a response, exhausted from the bit of temper I'd shown. And I realised I was in a free fall with no end. I had been for a while. From the moment I'd stabbed that Fae youth in the heart.”

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“Please- please take care of her.' Alis. From right by my ear, the other replied, 'Consider yourself very, very lucky that your High Lord was not here when we arrived. Your guards will have one hell of a headache when they wake up, but they're alive. Be grateful.' Mor. Mor held me- carried me. The darkness guttered long enough that I could draw breath, that I could see the garden door she walked toward. I opened my mouth, but she peered down at me and said, 'Did you think his shield would keep us from you? Rhys shattered it with half a thought.' But I didn't spy Rhys anywhere- not as the darkness swirled back in. I clung to her, trying to breathe, to think. 'You're free,' Mor said tightly. 'You're free.' Not safe. Not protected. Free. She carried me beyond the garden, into the fields, up a hill, down it, and into- into a cave- I must have started bucking and thrashing in her arms, because she said, 'You're out; you're free,' again and again and again as true darkness swallowed us. Half a heartbeat later, she emerged into sunlight- bright, strawberry-and grass-scented sunlight. I had a thought that this might be Summer, then- Then a low, vicious growl split the air between us, cleaving even my darkness. 'I did everything by the book,' Mor said to the owner of that growl. I was passed from her arms to someone else's, and I struggled to breathe, fought for any trickle of air down my lungs. Until Rhysand said, 'Then we're done here.' Wind tore at me, along with ancient darkness. But a sweeter, softer shade of night caressed me, stroking my nerves, my lungs, until I could at last get air inside, until it seduced me into sleep.”

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“When I go back...' 'As your presence here isn't part of our monthly arrangement, you are under no obligation to go back.' He rubbed at his temple. 'Unless you wish to.' The question settled in me like a stone sinking to the bottom of a pool. There was such quiet in me, such... nothingness. 'He locked me in that house,' I managed to say. A shadow of mighty wings spread behind Rhys's chair. But his face was calm as he said. 'I know. I felt you. Even with your shields up- for once.' I made myself meet his stare. 'I have nowhere else to go.' It was both a question and a plea. He waved a hand, the wings fading. 'Stay here for however long you want. Stay here forever, if you feel like it.' 'I- I need to go back at some point.' 'Say the word, and it's done.' He meant it, too. Even if I could tell from the ire in his eyes that he didn't like it. He'd bring me back to the Spring Court the moment I asked. Bring me back to silence, and those sentries, and a life of doing nothing but dressing and dining and planning parties.”

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“I made you an offer when you first came here: help me, and food, shelter, clothing... All of it is yours.' I'd been a beggar in the past. The thought of doing it now... 'Work for me,' Rhysand said. 'I owe you, anyway. And we'll figure out the rest day by day, if need be.' I looked toward the mountains, as if I could see all the way to the Spring Court in the south. Tamlin would be furious. He'd shred the manor apart. But he'd... he'd locked me up. Either he so deeply misunderstood me or he'd been so broken by what went on Under the Mountain, but... he'd locked me up. 'I'm not going back.' The words rang in me like a death knell. 'Not- not until I figure things out.' I shoved against the wall of anger and sorrow and outright despair as my thumb brushed over the vacant band of skin where that ring had once sat. One day at a time. Maybe- maybe Tamlin would come around. Heal himself, that jagged wound of festering fear. Maybe I'd sort myself out. I didn't know. But I did know that if I stayed in that manor, if I was locked up one more time... It might finish the breaking that Amarantha had started. Rhysand summoned a mug of hot tea from nowhere and handed it to me. 'Drink it.' I took the mug, letting its warmth soak into my stiff fingers. He watched me until I took a sip, and then went back to monitoring the mountains. I took another sip- peppermint and... liquorice and another herb or spice. I wasn't going back. Maybe I'd never even... gotten to come back. Not from Under the Mountain.”

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“And I saw how I would spend the next few days in solitude, with nothing to do and only my own, horrible thoughts for company. I began speaking before I could reconsider. 'Take me with you.' Rhys halted as he pushed through two purple gossamer curtains. And slowly, he turned back. 'You should rest.' 'I've rested enough,' I said, setting down the empty mug and standing. My head spun slightly. When had I last eaten? 'Wherever you're going, whatever you're doing- take me along. I'll stay out of trouble. Just... Please.' I hated the last word, choked on it. It had done nothing to sway Tamlin. For a long moment, Rhys said nothing. Then he prowled toward me, his long stride eating up the distance and his face set like stone. '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. So if you come, you will have to lie about it forever; if you return to the Spring Court, you cannot tell anyone there what you see, and who you meet, and what you will witness. If you would rather not have that between you and- your friends, then stay here.' Stay here, stay locked up in the Spring Court... My chest was a gaping, open wound. I wondered if I'd bleed out from it- if a spirit could bleed out and die. Maybe that had already happened. 'Take me with you,' I breathed. 'I won't tell anyone what I see. Even- them.' I couldn't bear to say his name. Rhys studied me for a few heartbeats. And finally he gave me a half smile. 'We leave in ten minutes. If you want to freshen up, go ahead.' An unusually polite reminder that I probably looked like the dead. I felt like it. But I said, 'Where are we going?' Rhys's smile widened into a grin. 'To Velaris- the City of Starlight.”

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“She might be older than this city, but she's vain, and likes to hoard her baubles and belongings like a firedrake in a cave. So... be on your guard. You both have tempers when provoked, and I don't want you to have any surprises tonight.' Some part of me didn't want to know what manner of creature, exactly, she was. 'So if we get into a brawl and I rip off her necklace, she'll roast and eat me?' He chuckled. 'No- Amren would do far, far worse things than that. The last time Amren and Mor got into it, they left my favourite mountain retreat in cinders.' He lifted a brow. 'For what it's worth, I'm the most powerful High Lord in Prythian's history, and merely interrupting Amren is something I've only done once in the past century.' The most powerful High Lord in history. In the countless millennia they had existed here in Prythian, Rhys- Rhys with his smirking and sarcasm and bedroom eyes... And Amren was worse. And older than five thousand years... I waited for the fear to hit; waited for my body to shriek to find a way to get out of this dinner, but... nothing. Maybe it'd be a mercy to be ended- A broad hand gripped my face- gently enough not to hurt, but hard enough to make me look at him. 'Don't you ever think that,' Rhysand hissed, his eyes livid. 'Not for one damned moment.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“When I was a boy,' Rhys said in my ear, 'I'd sneak out of the House of Wind by leaping out my window- and I'd fly and fly all night, just making loops around the city, the river, the sea. Sometimes I still do.' 'Your parents must have been thrilled.' 'My father never knew- and my mother...' A pause. 'She was Illyrian. Some nights, when she caught me right as I leaped out the window, she'd scold me... and then jump out herself to fly with me until dawn.' 'She sounds lovely,' I admitted. 'She was,' he said. And those two words told me enough about his past that I didn't pry.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Wind and night and stars wheeled by as he winnowed us through the world, and the calluses of his hand scratched against my own fading ones before- Before sunlight, not starlight, greeted me. Squinting at the brightness, I found myself standing in what was unmistakably a foyer of someone's house. The ornate red carpet cushioned the one step I staggered away from him as I surveyed the warm, wood-panelled walls, the artwork, the straight, wide oak staircase ahead. Flanking us were two rooms: on my left, a sitting room with a black marble fireplace, lots of comfortable, elegant, but worn furniture, and bookshelves built into every wall. On my right; a dining room with a long, cherrywood table big enough for ten people- small, compared to the dining room at the manor. Down the slender hallway ahead were a few more doors, ending in one that I assumed would lead to a kitchen. A town house. ... This house... this house was a home that had been lived in and enjoyed and cherished.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I might be a shameless flirt, but at least I don't have a horrible temper. You should come tend to my wounds from our squabble in the snow. I'm bruised all over thanks to you. Something clicked against the nightstand, and a pen rolled across the polished mahogany. Hissing, I snatched it up and scribbed: Go lick your wounds and leave me be. The paper vanished. It was gone for a while- far longer than it should have taken to write the few words that appeared on the paper when it returned. I'd much rather you licked my wounds for me. My heart pounded, faster and faster, and a strange sort of rush went through my veins as I read the sentence again and again. A challenge. I clamped my lips shut to keep from smiling as I wrote, Lick you where exactly? The paper vanished before I'd even completed the final mark. His reply was a long time coming. Then, Wherever you want to lick me, Feyre. I'd like to start with "Everywhere," but I can choose, if necessary. I wrote back, Let's hope my licking is better than yours. I remember how horrible you were at it Under the Mountain. Lie. He'd licked away my tears when I'd been a moment away from shattering. He'd done it to keep me distracted- keep me angry. Because anger was better than feeling nothing; because anger and hatred were the long-lasting fuel in the endless dark of my despair. The same way that music had kept me from breaking. Lucien had come to patch me up a few times, but no one risked quite so much in keeping me not only alive, but as mentally intact as I could be considering the circumstances. Just as he'd been doing these past few weeks- taunting and teasing me to keep the hollowness at bay. Just as he was doing now. I was under duress, his next note read. If you want, I'd be more than happy to prove you wrong. I've been told I'm very, very good at licking. I clenched my knees together and wrote back, Good night. A heartbeat later, his note said, Try not to moan too loudly when you dream about me. I need my beauty rest. I got up, chucked the letter in the burbling fire, and gave it a vulgar gesture. I could have sworn laughter rumbled down the hall.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Maybe you should... go.' 'Why? You seemed so insistent that I train you.' 'I can't concentrate with you around,' I admitted. 'And go... far. I can feel you from a room away.' A suggestive curve shaped his lips. I rolled my eyes. 'Why don't you just hide in one of those pocket realms for a bit.' 'It doesn't work like that. There's no air there.' I gave him a look to say he should definitely do it then, and he laughed. He jerked his chin at my tattoo. 'Give a shout down the bond if you get anything accomplished before breakfast.' I frowned at the eye in my palm. 'What- literally shout at the tattoo?' 'You could try rubbing it on certain body parts and I might come faster.' He vanished into nothing before I could hurl the candle at him. Alone in the frost-gilded forest, I replayed his words and a quiet chuckle rasped out of me.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“You told me that this city was better seen at night. Are you all talk, or will you ever bother to show me?' A low laugh as he looked me over. I didn't recoil from his gaze. When his eyes found mine again, his mouth twisted into a smile so few saw. Real amusement- perhaps a little bit of happiness edged with relief. The male behind the High Lord's mask. 'Dinner,' he said. 'Tonight. Let's find out if you, Feyre darling, are all talk- or if you'll allow a Lord of Night to take you out on the town.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I made to jump off the stone, but he gripped my chin, the movement too fast to detect. His words were a lethal caress as he said, 'Did you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you?' I knew he could hear my heart as it ratcheted into a thunderous beat. I gave him a hateful little smirk, anyway, yanking my chin out of his touch and leaping off the stone. I might have aimed for him feet. And he might have shifted out of the way just enough to avoid it. 'Isn't that all you males are good for, anyway?' But the words were tight, near breathless. His answering smile evoked silken sheets and jasmine-scented breezes at midnight.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Nesta is a delight, by the way.' 'She's... her own creature,' I said. It was perhaps the kindest thing I could say about her. 'It's been a few centuries since someone got under Cassian's skin that easily. 'Too bad they're both inclined to kill the other.' Part of me shuddered at the havoc the two would wreak if they decided to stop fighting.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I'm bored. Any sparks yet? ... No, you snoop. Don't you have important things to do? ... I'm watching Cassian and Nesta get into it again over their tea. Something you subjected me to when you kicked me off training. I thought this was our day off. ... Poor baby High Lord. Life is so hard. ... Life is better when you're around. And look at how lovely your handwriting is. ... You're a shameless flirt.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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