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A Court of Mist and Fury

Book by Sarah J. Maas · 30 quotes · Feyre, A Court Of Mist And Fury, Sarah J Maas

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A Court of Mist and Fury Quotes

“Lucien cleared his throat. 'She meant no harm, Tam.' 'I know she meant no harm,' he snapped. Lucien held his gaze. 'Worse things have happened, worse things can happen. Just relax.' Tamlin's emerald eyes were feral as he snarled at Lucien, 'Did I ask for your opinion?' Those words, the look he gave Lucien and the way Lucien lowered his head- my temper was a burning river in my veins. Look up, I silently beseeched him. Push back. He's wrong, and we're right. Lucien's jaw tightened. That force thrummed in me again, seeping out, spearing for Lucien. Do not back down- Then I was gone. Still there, still seeing through my eyes, but also half looking through another angle in the room, another person's vantage point- Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless- Then I was back, blinking, no more than a heartbeat passing as I gaped at Lucien. His head. I had been inside his head, had slid through his mental walls-”

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“I'm sorry,' he murmured, and my spine tingled. He kissed my neck again. 'I'm sorry.' I ran a hand down his arm. 'Tamlin,' I started. 'I shouldn't have said those things,' he breathed onto my skin. 'To you or Lucien. I didn't mean any of them.' 'I know,' I said, and his body relaxed against mine. 'I'm sorry I snapped at you.' 'You had every right,' he said, though I technically didn't. 'I was wrong.' What he said had been true- if he made exceptions, then other faeries would demand the same treatment. And what I had done could be construed as undermining. 'Maybe I was-' 'No. You were right. I don't understand what it's like to be starving- or any of it.”

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“Tamlin- Tamlin, I can't... I can't live my life with guards around me day and night. I can't live like that... suffocation. Just let me help you- let me work with you.' 'You've given enough, Feyre.' 'I know. But...' I faced him. Met his stare- the full power of the High Lord of the Spring Court. 'I'm harder to kill now. I'm faster, stronger-' 'My family were faster and stronger than you. And they were murdered quite easily.' 'Then marry someone who can put up with this.' He blinked. Slowly. Then he said with terrible softness. 'Do you not want to marry me, then?' I tried not to look at the ring on my finger, at the emerald. 'Of course I do. Of course I do.' My voice broke. 'But you... Tamlin...' The walls pushed in on me. The quiet, the guards, the stares. What I'd seen at the Tithe today. 'I'm drowning,' I managed to say. 'I am drowning. And the more you do this, the more guards... You might as well be shoving my head under the water.' Nothing in those eyes, that face. But then- I cried out, instinct taking over as his power blasted through the room. The windows shattered. The furniture splintered. And that box of paints and brushes and paper... It exploded into dust and glass and wood.”

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“I awoke each night, shaking and panting. And became glad when Tamlin wasn't there to witness it. When I, too, didn't witness him being yanked from his dreams, cold sweating coating his body. Or shifting into that beast, and staying awake until dawn, monitoring the estate for threats. What could I say to calm those fears, when I was the source of so many of them?”

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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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“Feyre,' he said, reaching for me, but I stepped out of range. 'Why do you need to know these things? Is it not enough for you to recover in peace? You earned that for yourself. You earned it. I relaxed the number of sentries here; I've been trying... trying to be better about it. So leave the rest of it-' He took a steadying breath. 'This isn't the time for this conversation.' It was never the time for this conversation, or that conversation. But I didn't say it. I didn't have the energy to say it, and the words dried up and blew away. So I memorised the lines of Tamlin's face, and didn't fight him as he pulled me to his chest and held me tightly.”

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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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“That girl who had needed to be protected, who had craved stability and comfort... she had died Under the Mountain. I had died, and there had been no one to protect me from those horrors before my neck snapped. So I had done it myself. And I would not, could not, yield that part of me that had awoken and transformed Under the Mountain. Tamlin had gotten his powers back, had become whole again- become that protector and provider her wished to be. I was not the human girl who needed coddling and pampering, who wanted luxury and easiness. I didn't know how to go back to craving those things. To being docile.”

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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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“You can barely sleep through the night,' he said carefully. I retorted, 'Neither can you.' But he just plowed ahead, 'You can barely handle being around other people-' 'You promised.' My voice cracked. And I didn't care that I was begging. 'I need to get out of this house.' 'Have Bron take you and Ianthe on a ride-' 'I don't want to go for a ride!' I splayed my arms. 'I don't want to go for a ride, or a picnic, or pick wildflowers. I want to do something. So take me with you.”

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“Then Nesta asked, 'Your High Lord... You went through all that' -she waved a hand at me, my ears, my body- 'and it still did not end well?' I was heavy in my veins again. 'That lord built a wall to keep the Fae out. My High Lord wanted to keep me caged in.' 'Why? He let you come back here all those months ago.' 'To save me- protect me. And I think... I think what happened to him, to us, Under the Mountain broke him,' Perhaps more than it had broken me. 'The drive to protect at all costs, even my own wellbeing... I think he wanted to stifle it, but he couldn't. He couldn't let go of it.' There was... there was much I still had to do, I realised. To settle things. Settle myself.”

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“When are you going to talk about how you wrote a letter to Tamlin, telling him you've left for good?' The question hit me so viciously that I sniped, 'How about when you talk about how you tease and taunt Mor to hide whatever it is you feel for her?' Because I had no doubt that he was well aware of the role he played in their little tangled web. ... Cassian let out a startled, rough laugh. 'Old news.' 'I have a feeling that's what she probably says about you.' ... But the question he'd asked swarmed in my skull. You've left for good, you've left for good, you've left for good. I had- I'd meant it. But without knowing what he thought, if he'd even care that much... No, I knew he'd care. He'd probably trashed the manor in his rage. If my mere mention of him suffocating me had caused him to destroy his study, then this... I had been frightened by those fits of pure rage, cowed by them. And it had been love- I had loved him so deeply, so greatly, but...”

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“I'd been in love, and I'd meant it- the happiness, the lust, the peace... I'd felt all of those things. Once. ... But maybe those things had blinded me, too. Maybe they'd been a blanket over my eyes about the temper. The need for control, the need to protect that ran so deep he'd locked me up. Like a prisoner.”

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“Tamlin remained asleep as I crept back into my darkened bedroom, his naked body sprawled across the mattress. For a moment, I just admired the powerful muscles of his back, so lovingly traced by moonlight, his golden hair, mussed with sleep and the fingers I'd run through it while we made love earlier. For him, I had done this- for him, I'd gladly wrecked myself and my immortal soul. And now I had an eternity to live with it.”

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“...sometimes I wondered if I heard his breath catch, only for a heartbeat. I never had the nerve to ask if he was awake. He never woke when the nightmares dragged me from sleep; never woke when I vomited my guts up night after night. If he knew of heard, he said nothing about it. I knew similar dreams chased him from slumber as often as I fled from mine. The first time it happened, I'd awoken- tried to speak to him. But he'd shaken off my touch, his skin clammy, and had shifted into that beast of fur and claws and horns and fangs. He'd spent the rest of the night sprawled across the foot of the bed, monitoring the door, the wall of windows. He'd since spent many nights like that.”

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“But even if stability reigned for a hundred years, I doubted I'd ever awaken one morning and not put on the knife. A hundred years. I had that- I had centuries ahead of me. Centuries with Tamlin, centuries in this beautiful, quiet place. Perhaps I'd sort myself out sometime along the way. Perhaps not.”

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“I said to him at last, 'I don't want your damn pity.' 'It's not pity. Tamlin said I shouldn't tell you-' He winced a bit. 'I'm not made of glass. If the naga attacked you, I deserve to know-' 'Tamlin is my High Lord. He gives an order, I follow it.' 'You didn't have that mentality when you worked around his commands to send me to see the Suriel.' And I'd nearly died. 'I was desperate then. We all were. But now- now we need order, Feyre. We need rules, and rankings, and order, if we're going to stand a chance of rebuilding. So what he says goes. I am the first one the others look to- I set the example. Don't ask me to risk the stability of this court by pushing back. Not right now. He's giving you as much free rein as he can.' I forced a steady breath to fill my too-tight lungs. 'For all that you refuse to interact with Ianthe, you certainly sound a great deal like her.' He hissed, 'You have no idea how hard it is for him to even let you off the estate grounds. He's under more pressure than you realise.' 'I know exactly how much pressure he endures. And I didn't realise I'd become a prisoner.' 'You're not-' He clenched his jaw. 'That's now how it is and you know it.' 'He didn't have any trouble letting me hunt and wander on my own when I was a mere human. When the borders were far less safe.' 'He didn't care for you the way he does now. And after what happened Under the Mountain...' The words clanged in my head, along my too-tense muscles. 'He's terrified. Terrified of seeing you in his enemies' hands. And they know it, too- they know all they have to do to own him would be to get ahold of you.' 'You think I don't know that? But does he honestly expect me to spend the rest of my life in that manor, overseeing servants and wearing pretty clothes?' Lucien watched the ever-young forest. 'Isn't that what all human women wish for? A handsome faerie lord to wed and shower them with riches for the rest of their lives?' I gripped the reins of my horse hard enough that she tossed her head. 'Good to know you're still a prick, Lucien.' His metal eye narrowed. 'Tamlin is a High Lord. You will be his wife. There are traditions and expectations you must uphold. We must uphold, in order to present a solid front that is healed from Amarantha and willing to destroy any foes who try to take what is ours again.”

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“So give him time, Feyre,' Lucien said. 'Let's get through the wedding, then the Tithe next month, and then... then we can see about the rest.' 'I've given him time,' I said. 'I can't stay cooped up in the house forever.' 'He knows that- he doesn't say it, but he knows it. Trust me. You will forgive him if his family's own slaughter keeps him from being so... liberal with your safety. He's lost those he cares for too many times. We all have.' Every word was like fuel added to the summering pit in my gut. 'I don't want to marry a High Lord. I just want to marry him.' 'One doesn't exist without the other. He is what he is. He will always, always seek to protect you, whether you like it or not. Talk to him about it- really talk to him, Feyre. You'll figure it out.' Our gazes met. A muscle feathered in Lucien's jaw. 'Don't ask me to pick.”

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“Alis coughed from the shadows of the house, and I remembered to start walking, to look toward the dais- At Tamlin. The breath knocked from me, and it was an effort to keep going down the stairs, to keep going my knees from buckling. He was resplendent in a tunic of green and gold, a crown of burnished laurel leaves gleaming on his head. He'd loosened the grip on his glamour, letting that immortal light and beauty shine through- for me. My vision narrowed on him, on my High Lord, his wide eyes glistening as I stepped onto the soft grass, white rose petals scattered down it- And Red ones. Like drops of blood amongst the white, red petals had been sprayed across the path ahead. I forced my gaze up, to Tamlin, his shoulders back, head high. So unaware of the true extent of how broken and dark I was inside. How unfit I was to be clothed in white when my hands were so filthy. Everyone else was thinking it. They had to be. Every step was too fast, propelling me toward the dais and Tamlin. And toward Ianthe, clothed in dark blue robes tonight, beaming beneath the hood and silver crown. As if I were good- as if I hadn't murdered two of their kind. I was a murderer and a liar. A cluster of red petals loomed ahead- just like the Fae youth's blood had pooled at my feet. Ten steps from the dais, at the edge of that splatter of red, I slowed. Then stopped. Everyone was watching, exactly as they had when I'd nearly died, spectators to my torment. Tamlin extended a broad hand, brows narrowing slightly. My heart beat so fast, too fast. I was going to vomit. Right over those rose petals, right over the grass and ribbons trailing into the ailse from the chairs flanking it. And between my skin and bones, something thrummed and pounded, rising and pushing, lashing through my blood- So many eyes, too many eyes, pressed on me, witness to every crime I'd committed, every humiliation- I don't know why I'd even bothered to wear gloves, why I'd let Ianthe convince me. The fading sun was too hot, the garden too hedged in. As inescapable as the vow I was about to make, binding me to him forever, shackling him to my broken and weary soul. The thing inside me was roiling now, my body shaking with the building force of it as it hunted for a way out- Forever- I would never get better, never get free of myself, of the dungeon where I'd spent three months- 'Feyre,' Tamlin said, his hand steady, as he continued to reach for mine. The sun sank past the lip of the western garden wall; shadows pooled, chilling the air. If I turned away, they'd start talking, but I couldn't make the last few steps, couldn't, couldn't, couldn't- I was going to fall apart, right there, right then- and they'd see precisely how ruined I was. Help me, help me, help me, I begged someone, anyone. Begged Lucien, standing in the front row, his metal eye fixed on me. Begged Ianthe, face serene and patient and lovely within that hood. Save me- please, save me. Get me out. End this. Tamlin took a step toward me- concern shading those eyes. I retreated a step. No. Tamlin's mouth tightened. The crowd murmured. Silk streamers laden with globes of gold faelight twinkled into life above and around us. Ianthe said smoothly. 'Come, Bride and be joined with your true love. Come, Bride, and let good triumph at last.' Good. I was not good. I was nothing, and my soul, my eternal soul was damned- I tried to get my traitorous lungs to draw air so I could voice a word. No- no. But I didn't have to say it. Thunder crackled behind me, as if two boulders have been hurled against each other. People screamed, falling back, a few vanishing outright as darkness erupted. I whirled, and through the night drifting away like smoke on a wind, I found Rhysand straightening the lapels of his black jacket. 'Hello, Feyre darkling,' he purred.”

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“What do you want from me?' 'Want? I want you to say thank you, first of all. Then I want you to take off that hideous dress. You look...' His mouth cut into a cruel line. 'You look exactly like the doe-eyed damsel he and that simpering priestess want you to be.' 'You don't know anything about me. Or us.' Rhys gave a knowing smile. 'Does Tamlin? Does he ever ask you why you hurl your guts up every night, or why you can't go into certain rooms or see certain colours?' I froze. He might as well have stripped me naked. 'Get the hell out of my head.' Tamlin had horrors of his own to endure, to face down. 'Likewise.' He stalked a few steps away. 'You think I enjoy being awoken every night by visions of you puking? You send everything right down that bond, and I don't appreciate having a front-row seat when I'm trying to sleep.' 'Prick.' Another chuckle. But I wouldn't ask him what he meant- about the bond between us. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of looking curious.”

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“My lower lip trembled, and I began unbuttoning my gown, then tugged it off my shoulders. I let it slide to the ground in a sigh of silk and tulle and beading, a deflated soufflé on the marble floor, and took a large step out of it. Even my undergarments were ridiculous, frothy scraps of lace, intended solely for Tamlin to admire- and then tear into ribbons. I snatched up the gown, storming to the armoire and shoving it inside. Then I stripped off the undergarments and chucked them in as well.”

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“What a pretty little wedding,' Rhysand said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as those many swords remained in their sheaths. The remaining crowd was pressing back, some climbing over seats to get away. Rhys looked me over slowly, and clicked his tongue at my silk gloves. Whatever had been building beneath my skin went still and cold. 'Get the hell out,' growled Tamlin, stalking toward us. Claws ripped from his knuckles. Rhys clicked his tongue again. 'Oh, I don't think so. Not when I need to call in my bargain with Feyre darling.' My stomach hollowed out. No- no, not now. 'You try to break the bargain, and you know what will happen,' Rhys went on, chuckling a bit at the crowd still falling over themselves to get away from him. He jerked his chin toward me. 'I gave you three months of freedom. You could at least look happy to see me.”

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“I'll be taking her now.' 'Don't you dare,' Tamlin snarled. Behind him, the dais was empty. Ianthe had vanished entirely. Along with most of those in attendance. 'Was I interrupting? I thought it was over.' Rhys gave me a smile dripping with venom. He knew- through that bond, through whatever magic was between us, he'd known I was about to say no. 'At least Feyre seemed to think so.”

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“Rhys was the least of my concerns. Tamlin had seen the hesitation, but had he understood that I was about to say no? Had Ianthe? I had to tell him. Had to explain that there couldn't be a wedding, not for a while yet. Maybe I'd wait until the mating bond snapped into place, until I knew for sure it couldn't be some mistake, that... that I was worthy of him. Maybe wait until he, too, had faced the nightmares stalking him. Relaxed his grip on things a bit. On me. Even if I understood his need to protect, that fear of losing me... Perhaps I should explain everything when I returned. But- so many people had seen it, seen me hesitate-”

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“We are not your enemies, Feyre,' Lucien pleaded. 'Things got bad, Ianthe got out of hand, but it doesn't mean you give up-' 'You gave up,' I breathed. I felt even Rhys go still. 'You gave up on me,' I said a bit more loudly. 'You were my friend. And you picked him- picked obeying him, even when you saw what his orders and his rules did to me. Even when you saw me wasting away day by day.' 'You have no idea how volatile those first few months were,' Lucien snapped. 'We needed to present a unified, obedient front, and I was supposed to be the example to which all others in our court were held.' 'You saw what was happening to me. But you were too afraid of him to truly do anything about it.' It was fear. Lucien had pushed Tamlin, but to a point. He'd always yielded at the end. 'I begged you,' I said, the words sharp and breathless. 'I begged you so many times to help me, to get me out of the house, even for an hour. And you left me alone, or shoved me into a room with Ianthe, or told me to stick it out.' Lucien said too quietly, 'And I suppose the Night Court is so much better?' I remembered- remembered what I was supposed to know, to have experienced. What Lucien and the others could never know, not even if it meant forfeiting my own life. And I would. To keep Velaris safe, to keep Mor and Amren and Cassian and Azriel and... Rhys safe. I said to Lucien, low and quiet and as vicious as the talons that formed at the tips of my fingers, as vicious as the wondrous weight between my shoulder blades, 'When you spend so long trapped in darkness, Lucien, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.' A pulse of surprise, of wicked delight against my mental shields, at the dark membranous wings I knew were now poking over my shoulders. Every icy kiss of rain sent jolt of cold through me. Sensitive- so sensitive, those Illyrian wings. Lucien backed up a step. 'What did you do to yourself?' I gave him a little smile. 'The human girl you knew died Under the Mountain. I have no interest in spending immortality as a High Lord's pet.' Lucien started shaking his head. 'Feyre-' 'Tell Tamlin,' I said, choking on his name, on the thought of what he'd done to Rhys, to his family, 'if he sends anyone else into these lands, I will hunt each and every one of you down. And I will demonstrate exactly what the darkness taught me. There was something like genuine pain on his face. I didn't care. I just watched him, unyielding and cold and dark. The creature I might one day have become if I had stayed at the Spring Court, if I had remained broken for decades, for centuries... until I learned to quietly direct those shards of pain outward, learned to savour the pain of others. Lucien nodded to his sentinels. Bron and Hart, wide-eyed and shaking, vanished with the other two. Lucien lingered for a moment, nothing but air and rain between us. He said softly to Rhysand, 'You're dead. You, and your entire cursed court.' Then he was gone.”

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