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A ​Court of Silver Flames

Book by Sarah J. Maas · 50 quotes · A Court Of Silver Flames, Sarah J Maas, Nesta Archeron

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A ​Court of Silver Flames Quotes

“She knew she was going into that Cauldron. Knew she would lose this fight. Knew no one was going to save her: not sobbing Feyre, not Feyre's gagged former lover, nor her devastated new mate. Not Cassian, broken and bleeding on the floor. The warrior was still trying to rise on trembling arms. To reach her. The King of Hybern- he had done this. To Elain. To Cassian. And to her. The icy water bit into the soles of her feet. It was a kiss of venom, a death so permanent that every inch of her roared in defiance. She was going in- but she would not go gently. The water gripped her ankles with phantom talons, tugging her down. She twisted, wrenching her arm free from the guard who held it. And Nesta Archeron pointed. One finger- at the King of Hybern. A death-promise. A target marked. Hands shoved her into the water's waiting claws. Nesta laughed at the fear that crept into the king's eyes just before the water devoured her whole. In the beginning. And in the end. There was darkness. And nothing more. She did not feel the cold as she sank into a sea that had no bottom, no horizon, no surface. But she felt the burning. Immortality was not a serene youth It was fire. It was molten ore poured into her veins, boiling her human blood until it was nothing but steam, forging her brittle bones until they were fresh steel. And when she opened her mouth to scream, when the pain ripped her very self in two, there was no sound. There was nothing in this place but darkness and agony and power- They would pay. All of them. Staring with the Cauldron. Starting now. She tore into the darkness with talons and teeth. Rent and cleaved and shredded. And the dark eternity around her shuddered. Bucked. Thrashed. She laughed as it recoiled. Laughed around the mouthful of raw power she ripped out and swallowed whole; laughed at the fistfuls of eternity she shoved into her heart, her veins. The Cauldron struggled like a bird under a cat's paw. She refused to relent. Everything it had stolen from her, from Elain, she would take from it. Wrapped in black eternity, Nesta and the Cauldron twined, burning through the darkness like a newborn star.”

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“But she ignored it, leaning her brow against the cool glass of the window. She let the starlight gently brush her head, her face, her neck. Imagined it running its shimmering fingers down her cheek, as her mother had done for her and her alone. My Nesta. Elain shall wed for love and beauty, but you, my cunning little queen... You shall wed for conquest.”

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“I am not a child to be fought over.' Nesta's pulse pounded throughout her body, 'Do you not remember the war? What we encountered? Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern's camp?' 'I do,' Elain said coldly. 'And I remember Feyre rescuing me.' Roaring erupted in Nesta's head. For a heartbeat, it appeared that Elain might say something to soften the words. But Nesta cut her off, seething at the pity about to be thrown her way. 'Look who decided to grow claws after all,' she crooned. 'Maybe you've become interesting at last, Elain.' Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain's face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike. Elain's eyes brightened with pain. Something imploded in Nesta's chest at that expression. She opened her mouth, as if it could somehow be undone. But Elain said, 'I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

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“Nesta's stare drifted to the paint flaking off the walls. The intricate little designs. Cassian followed her stare. 'Did Feyre paint that?' Nesta swallowed, and managed to get out, 'She painted every chance she got. Any extra coins she managed to save went toward paints.' 'Have you ever seen what she's done to the cabin up in the mountains?' 'No.' She'd never been there. 'Feyre painted the whole thing. Just like this. She told me once that there's a dresser here...' Nesta aimed for the bedroom. 'This one?' Cassian followed her, and gods, it was so cramped and dark and smelly. The bed was still covered with stained linens. The three of them had slept here for years. Cassian ran a hand over the painted dresser, marvelling. 'She really did paint stars for herself before she knew Rhys was her mate. Before she knew he existed.' His fingers traced the twining vines of flowers on the second drawer. 'Elain's drawer.' They drifted lower, curling over a lick of flame. 'And yours.' Nesta managed a grunt of confirmation, her chest tight to the point of pain.”

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“It nearly killed me. It trapped me like a bird in a cage.' Elain said, 'Then I will find it. I might require some time to reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.' 'Absolutely not,' Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. 'Absolutely not.' 'Why?' Elain demanded. 'Shall I tend to my little garden forever?' When Nesta flinched, Elain said, 'You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.' 'Then go off on adventures,' Nesta said. 'Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.”

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“There was nothing that could have been done to save him, Nesta.' The words were kindling. Elain had accepted his death as inevitable. She hadn't bothered to fight him, as if he hadn't been worth the effort, precisely as Nesta knew she herself wasn't worth the effort. This time, Nesta didn't stop the power from shining in her eyes, she shook so violently she had to fist her hands. 'You tell yourself there's nothing that could have been done because it's unbearable to think that you could have saved him, if you'd only deigned to show up a few minutes earlier.' The lie was bitter in her mouth. It wasn't Elain's fault their father had died. No, that was entirely Nesta's own fault. But if Elain was determined to root out the good in her, then she'd show her sister how ugly she could be. Let a fraction of this agony rip into her. This was why Elain had chosen Feyre. This. Feyre had rescued Elain time and again. BUt Nesta had sat by, armed only with her viper's tongue. Sat by while they starved. Sat by when Hybern stole them away and shoved them into the Cauldron. Sat by when Elain had been kidnapped. And when their father had been in Hybern's grip, she had done nothing, nothing to save him, either. Fear had frozen her, blanketing her mind, and she'd let it do so, let it master her, so that by the time her father's neck had snapped, it had been too late. And entirely her fault. Why wouldn't Elain choose Feyre?”

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“Good morning.' Cassian's fingers idly smoothed her hair. 'Good morning to you, too.' He glanced toward the mantel- the small wooden clock in its centre, then lurched up. 'Shit.' Nesta frowned. 'You have somewhere to be?' He was already hopping into his pants, scanning the floor for the rest of his clothes. Nesta silently pointed to the other side of the bed, where his shirt lay atop her dress. 'Snowball fight. I'll be late.' Nesta had to unload every word of his statement. But she could only ask. 'What?' 'Annual tradition, with Rhys and Az. We go up tot he mountain cabin- remind me to take you there one day- and... Well, it's a long story, but we've done it pretty much every year for centuries, and I haven't won in years. If I don't win this year, I will never hear the end of it.' All of this was said while shoving himself into his shirt, leather jacket, and boots. Nesta just laughed. 'You three- the most feared warriors in all the land- have an annual snowball fight?' Cassian reached the door, throwing her a wicked grin. 'Did I mention we take a steam in the birchin attached to the cabin afterward?' From that wicked grin, she knew he meant completely naked.”

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“How's the training?' She gave him a smile- a true one. 'Good. We're learning how to disembowel a male.' Lucien choked on his drink, nearly spewing it onto her head. Cassian appeared, a cup of tea steaming in his hands, and passed it to her before he declared proudly to Lucien, 'As you'd expect, Nes excels at it.' Mor lifted her glass in a mockery of a toast. 'My favourite part of training.”

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“So Nesta held her sister tightly, with Time halted around them, and she whispered, 'If you show me how to save her, you can have it back.' The world paused. Worlds beyond their own paused. Nesta buried her face in the cold sweat of Feyre's neck. She opened that place within herself, and said to the Mother, to the Cauldron, 'I'll give back what I took from you. Just show me how to save them- her and Rhysand and the baby.' Rhysand- her brother. That's what he was, wasn't he? Her brother, who had offered her kindness even when she knew he wanted to throttle her. And she him. and the baby... her nephew. Blood of her blood. She would save him, save them, even if it took everything. 'Show me,' she pleaded.”

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“Cassian.' Rhys's voice was a thing of nightmares, of the darkness between the stars. Cassian froze at that voice he'd so rarely heard, and never once directed at himself. 'What happened?' Rhys's face was wholly calm. But death- black, raging death- lay in his eyes. Not a star or shimmer of violet remained. Rhys said in that voice that was like hell embodied, 'Nesta saw fit to inform Feyre of the risk to her and the babe.' Cassian's heart began thundering, even as it splintered. Rhys held his state, and it was all Cassian could do to weather it as his brother, his High Lord said, 'Get Nesta out of this city. Right now.' Rhys's power rumbled in the room like a rising storm. 'Before I fucking kill her.”

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“She didn't remember a time when she hadn't been angry. ... She couldn't quell this relentless, churning anger. Couldn't stop herself from lashing out before she could be wounded. She was no better than a rabid dog. She had been a rabid dog with Amren and Feyre. A beast, exactly like Tamlin. She hadn't even cared that she'd made it down the House stairs at last- did it count, when it was driven by fury? Did she count- was she worth being counted? It was the question that sent everything crumpling inside her.”

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“I suppose that loudmouthed bastard told you more than was necessary.' 'You voted against me,' she said, her cold voice belying the crack in her chest. 'You have done nothing to prove you are able to handle such a terrible power,' Amren said with equal iciness. 'On that barge, you told me as much when you walked away from any attempt at mastering it. I offered to teach you more, and you walked away.' 'I walked away because you chose my sister.' Just as Elain had done. Amren had been her friend, her ally, and yet in the end, it hadn't mattered one bit. She'd picked Feyre. 'I didn't choose anyone, you stupid girl,' Amren snapped. 'I told you that Feyre had requested you and I work together again, and you somehow twist that into me siding with her?' Nesta said nothing. 'I told them to leave you alone for months. I refused to speak about you with them. And then the moment I realised my behaviour was not helping you, that maybe your sister was right, I somehow betrayed you?' Nesta shook. 'You know how I feel about Feyre.' 'Yes, poor Nesta, with a younger sister who loves her so dearly she's willing to do anything to get her help.' Nesta blocked out the memory of Tamlin in his beast form, how she had wanted to rip him limb from limb. She was no better than him, in the end. 'Feyre doesn't have me.' She didn't deserve Feyre's love. Just as Tamlin hadn't. Amren barked out a laugh. 'That you believe Feyre doesn't only proves you're unworthy of your power. Anyone that willingly blind cannot be trusted. You would be a walking nightmare with those weapons.' 'It's different now.' The words rang hollow. Was it any different? Was she any different that she'd been this summer, when she and Amren had fought on the barge, and Amren's utter disappointment in her failure to be anything had surfaced at last? Amren smiled, as if she knew that, too. 'You can train as hard as you want, fuck Cassian as often as you want, but it isn't going to fix what's broken if you don't start reflecting.' 'Don't preach at me.. You-' She pointed at Amren, and could have sworn the female stepped out of the line of fire. Just as Tamlin had done. As if Amren also remembered that the last time Nesta had pointed at an enemy, it had ended with his severed head in her hands. A joyless laugh broke from her. 'You think I'd mark you with a death-promise?' 'You nearly did with Tamlin the other day.' So Cassian had told them all about that, too. 'But I'll say to you again what I said on that barge. I think you have powers that you still do not understand, respect, or control.' 'How dare you assume you know what is best for me?' When Amren didn't answer, Nesta hissed, 'You were my friend.' Amren's teeth flashed. 'Was I? I don't think you know what that word means.' Her chest ached, as if that invisible fist had punched her once again. Steps thudded beyond the shattered door, and she braced for Cassian to come roaring in- But it was Feyre.”

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“Cassian. I forgot you can mind-speak. Her laugh sounded. I can't decide whether I should be insulted or not. Perhaps I should be using the daemati gifts more often. She paused before saying, Are you all right? I should be asking you that. Rhys overreacted. He completely and utterly overreacted. Cassian shook his head, though Feyre couldn't see it. I'm sorry you had to learn of it. I'm not. I'm furious with all of you. I understand why you didn't tell me, but I'm furious. Well, we're furious with Nesta. She had the courage to tell me the truth. She told you the truth to hurt you. Perhaps. But she was the only one who said anything. Cassian sighed through his nose. She... He thought it over. I think she saw the parallels between your situations and, in her own way, decide to avenge both of you. That's my feeling, too. Rhys disagrees. I wish you'd found out a different way. Well, I didn't. But we'll face it together. All of us. How can you be so calm about this? The alternative is fear and panic. I will not let my son feel those things. I will fight for him, for us, until I no longer can. Cassian's throat tightened. We'll fight for you, too. I know. Feyre paused again. Rhys had no right to chase you from the city, or to threaten Nesta. He has realised that, and apologised. I want you to come back home. Both of you. Where did you even head off to? The wilderness. Cassian looked over a shoulder, to where Nesta had been asleep for the past few hours, curled into a tight ball against the wall of rock. I think we'll stay out here for a few days. We're going to hike. Nesta has never been on a hike in her life. I guarantee she will hate it. Then tell Rhys this is her punishment. Because Rhys, despite apologising for his threats, would still be furious. Tell him that Nesta and I are going to hike, and she's going to hate it, but she comes home when I decide she's ready to come home. Feyre was quiet for a long moment. He says that he knows he's supposed to say that's unnecessary, but to tell you he's secretly delighted. Good. I am secretly glad to hear that. Feyre laughed, and the sound was proof that she might have been hurt, startled by the news, but she was indeed adapting to it. Would not let it make her cower and cry. He didn't know why he'd expected any less of her. Feyre said, Please take care of her, Cassian. And yourself. Cassian glanced to the sleeping female nearly hidden in the shadows of the rock. I will.”

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“Nesta,' he said into her ear. 'Nesta, open your hand and come back.' Her breathing sharpened. The cold deepened. 'Nesta,' he snarled- And the cold halted. It didn't vanish, but rather... stopped. Nesta's eyes flicked open. Silver fire burned within. Nothing Fae looked out through them. Rhys shoved Feyre behind him. She shoved her way back to his side. But Nesta's hand continued to squeeze Cassian's. He squeezed back, let his Siphons send a bite of power into her skin. She turned her head so slowly it was like watching a puppet move. Her eyes met his. Death watched him. But Death had walked beside him every day of his life. So Cassian stroked his thumb along her palm and said, 'Hello, Nes.' Nesta blinked, and he let his Siphons bite her with his power again. The fire flickered. He nodded to the map, 'Let go of the stones and bones.' He didn't let her scent his fear. Here was the being the Bone Carver had whispered about, exalted and feared. 'Let go of the stones and bones, and then you and I can play.”

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“We need to make some changes, Nesta,' Feyre said hoarsely. 'You do- and we do.' Where the hell was Elain? 'I'll take the blame,' Feyre went on, 'for allowing things to get this far, and this bad. After the war with Hybern, with everything else that was going on, it... You... I should have been there to help you, but I wasn't, and I am ready to admit that this is partially my fault.' 'That what is your fault?' Nesta hissed. 'You,' Cassian said. 'This bullshit behaviour.' He'd said that at the Winter Solstice. And just as it had then, her spine locked at the insult, the arrogance- 'Look,' Cassian went on, holding up his hands, 'it's not some moral failing, but-' 'I understand how you're feeling,' Feyre cut in. 'You know nothing about how I'm feeling.' Feyre plowed ahead. 'It's time for some changes. Starting now.' 'Keep your self-righteous do-gooder nonsense out of my life.' 'You don't have a life,' Feyre retorted. 'And I'm not going to sit by for another moment and watch you destroy yourself.' She put a tattooed hand on her heart, like it meant something. 'I decided after the war to give you time, but it seems that was wrong. I was wrong.' 'Oh?' The word was a dagger thrown between them. Rhys tensed at the sneer, but still said nothing. 'You're done,' Feyre breathed, voice shaking. 'This behaviour, that apartment, all of it- you are done, Nesta.' 'And where,' Nesta said, her tone mercifully icy, 'am I supposed to go?' Feyre looked to Cassian. For once, Cassian wasn't grinning. 'You're coming with me,' he said. 'To train.”

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“All you have done is help yourself to our money.' 'Your mate's money.' Another flash of hurt. 'Thank you so much for taking time out of your home-making and shopping to remember me.' 'I built a room in this house for you. I asked you to help me decorate it. You told me to piss off.' 'Why would I ever want to stay in this house?' Where she could see precisely how happy they were, where none of them seemed remotely as decimated as she'd been by the war. She'd come so close to being a part of it- of that circle. Had held their hands as they'd stood together on the morning of the final battle and believed they might all make it. Then she'd learned precisely how mercilessly it might be ripped away. What the cost of hop and joy and love truly was. She never wanted to face it again. Never wanted to endure what she'd felt in that forest clearing, with the King of Hybern chuckling, blood everywhere. Her power hadn't been enough to save them that day. She supposed she'd been punishing it for failing her every since, keeping it locked up tight inside her. Feyre said, 'Because you're my sister.' 'Yes, and you're always sacrificing for us, your sad little human family-”

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“I am not a thing to be controlled by you,' Nesta said icily. Everything in her life, from the moment she was born, had been controlled by other people. Things happened to her; anytime she tried to exert control, she'd been thwarted at every turn- and she hated that even more than the King of Hybern. 'That's why you're going to train at Windhaven. You will learn to control yourself.' 'I won't go.' 'You're going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there. You will follow Cassian's lessons, and you will do whatever work Clotho requires in the library.”

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“She didn't possess Rhys's skill set, but having survived in the Court of Nightmares, she'd learned to read the subtlest of expressions. A mere blink, she'd once told him, might mean the difference between life and death in that miserable court. 'She's settled, then?' Cassian knew who she meant. 'Taking a nap.' Mor snorted. 'Don't.' His attention drifting to the glittering Sidra mere feet away. 'Please don't.' Mor sipped her tea, the portrait of elegant innocence. 'We'd be better off throwing Nesta into the Court of NIghtmares. She'd thrive there.' Cassian clenched his jaw, both at the insult and the truth. 'That's exactly the sort of existence we're trying to steer her away from.' Mor assessed him with a bob of her thick lashes. 'It pains you seeing her like this.' 'All of it pains me.' He and Mor had always had this kind of relationship: truth at all costs, however harsh. Ever since that first and only time they'd slept together, when he'd learned too late that she'd hidden from him the terrible repercussions. When he'd seen her broken body and known that even if she'd lied to him, he'd still played a part. Cassian blew out a breath, shaking away the blood-soaked memory still staining his mind five centuries later. 'It pains me that Nesta has become... this. It pains me that she and Feyre are always at each other's throats. It pains me that Feyre hurts over it, and I know Nesta does, too. It pains me that...' He drummed his fingers on the table, then sipped from his water. 'I really don't want to talk about it.”

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“I refuse to leave you here.' Emerie's pained face told Nesta enough: she understood. Saw the logic. Nesta said to Gwyn. 'It is the only way.' Gwyn screamed. 'IT IS NOT THE ONLY WAY!' And then she was sobbing. 'I will not abandon you to them. They will kill you.' 'You need to go,' Nesta said, even as her hands began shaking. 'Now.' 'No,' Gwyn wept. 'No, I won't. I'll face it with you.' Something deep in Nesta's chest cracked. Cracked open completely, and what lay within bloomed, full and bright and pure. She wrapped her arms around Gwyn. Let her friend sob into her chest. 'I'll face it with you,' Gwyn whispered, over and over again. 'Promise me we'll face it together.' Nesta couldn't stop her tears. The chill wind froze them on her cheeks. 'I promise,' she breathed, stroking Gwyn's matted hair. 'I promise.' Gwyn sobbed, and Nesta let herself sob with her, squeezing her tightly. Letting her stroking hand come to rest on Gwyn's neck. A pinch in the right spot, exactly on the pressure point Cassina had shown her, and it was done. Gwyn went down. Unconscious.”

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“I refuse to leave you here.' Emerie's pained face told Nesta enough: she understood. Saw the logic. Nesta said to Gwyn. 'It is the only way.' Gwyn screamed. 'IT IS NOT THE ONLY WAY!' And then she was sobbing. 'I will not abandon you to them. They will kill you.' 'You need to go,' Nesta said, even as her hands began shaking. 'Now.' 'No,' Gwyn wept. 'No, I won't. I'll face it with you.' Something deep in Nesta's chest cracked. Cracked open completely, and what lay within bloomed, full and bright and pure. She wrapped her arms around Gwyn. Let her friend sob into her chest. 'I'll face it with you,' Gwyn whispered, over and over again. 'Promise me we'll face it together.' Nesta couldn't stop her tears. The chill wind froze them on her cheeks. 'I promise,' she breathed, stroking Gwyn's matted hair. 'I promise.' Gwyn sobbed, and Nesta let herself sob with her, squeezing her tightly. Letting her stroking hand come to rest on Gwyn's neck. A pinch in the right spot, exactly on the pressure point Cassian had shown her, and it was done. Gwyn went down. Unconscious.”

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“Two hours later, Nesta found herself fully clothed in a bathtub in the middle of the private library, the entire thing filled with bubbles. No water, just bubbles. In matching tubs on either side of her, Emerie and Gwyn were giggling. 'This is ridiculous,' Nesta said, even as her mouth curved upward. Each one of their requests had gotten more and more absurd, and Nesta might have felt like they were exploiting the House had it not been so... exuberant in answering their commands. Adding creative flourishes. Like the fact that each bubble held a tiny bird fluttering about inside. Silent fireworks still exploded in the far corner of the room, and a miniature pegasus- Nesta's request, made only when her friends goaded her into submitting one- fed on a small patch of grass by the shelf, content to ignore them. A cake taller than Cassian stood in the centre of the room, lit with a thousand candles. Six frogs danced circles around a red-and-white-spotted toadstool, the waltzes provided by Nesta's Symphonia. Emerie wore a diamond crown and six strings of pearls. Gwyn sported a broad-brimmed hat fit for any fine lady, perched at a rakish angle on her head. A lace parasol leaned against her other shoulder, and she twirled it idly as she surveyed the windows...”

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“Nesta summoned the dead. To do what her own body could not. Though she had fought back against Tomas, against the Cauldron, against the King of Hybern, they had all happened to her. She had survived, but she had been helpless and afraid. Not today. Today, she would happen to him.”

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“It's the ugliness of his fucking soul that riles me. I don't care if he calls me a mongrel bastard.' Eris had called him such things today, she realised. Rage rippled through her. 'It's just that, ally or not, I hate him. He's so slick and unruffled and... I can't stand him.' He set down his fork and stared toward the window behind him. 'Eris and his twisted word games and politics are an enemy I don't know how to handle. Every time I meet with him, I feel like he's got the upper hand. Like I can only catch up to him, and he sees through my every fumbling attempt at being clever. Maybe that makes me a stupid brute after all.' True sorrow filled his eyes- and enough self-loathing that Nesta rose from her seat. He went still as she rounded the table, only lifting his head when she leaned against the edge of the table beside his plate. 'Rhys should kill him and be done with it.' 'If anyone is going to kill Eris, it will be Mor or me.' His hazel eyes were nearly pleading. Not with her, she knew, but with fate. 'But killing him would prove him and his ilk right about me. And regardless of how I feel about Eris, he would be a better High Lord than Beron. No matter what I want, there's still the well-being of the Autumn Court to consider.' Cassian was good. In his soul, in his warrior's heart, Cassian was good in a way Nesta knew most people were not. In a way she knew she was not and would never be. He was not a warrior who killed on a whim, but a male who carefully considered every life he had to take. Who'd defend what he loved until death. And Eris... He'd hurt Cassian. With what he'd done to Morrigan, yes, but also with the words so similar to ones that Nesta herself had wielded. The wound lay in Cassian's eyes, as raw as any injury. Shame rushed through her. Shame, and anger, and a wild sort of desperation. She couldn't abide the pain in his eyes, teetering on the brink of despair. Couldn't stand the absence of the grinning and winking and swaggering she knew so well. She'd do anything to get rid of that look in his eyes. Even for a few moments.”

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“Cassian was halfway up the dried riverbed when stones crunched and clacked behind him. He whirled to find Nesta facedown. Not moving. He swore, rushing down the stony path, and slid to his knees before her. The sharp stones bit his legs through his pants, but he didn't care, not as he turned her over, his heart thundering. She'd fainted. His relief was a primal thing in him, settling, but- He hadn't looked back at her in hours. Filmy white crusted her lips; her skin was flushed and sweaty. He grabbed for the canteen at his belt, unscrewing the cap, and pulled her head into his lap. 'Drink,' he ordered, opening her mouth for her, his blood roaring in his ears. Nesta stirred, but didn't fight him when he poured a little water down her throat. It was enough to have her opening her eyes. They were glazed. Cassian demanded, 'When was the last time you had water?' Her eyes sharpened. The first time she'd really looked at him in three solid days. But she only took the canteen and drank deep, draining it. When she'd finished, she groaned, pushing herself from his lap, but only onto her side. He snapped, 'You should have been drinking water throughout the day.' She stared at the rocks around them. He couldn't stand that look- the vacancy, the indifference, as if she no longer really cared whether she lived or died here in the wild. His stomach twisted. Instinct bellowed at him to wrap himself around her, to comfort and soothe, but another voice, an ancient and wise voice, whispered to keep going. One more mountain, that voice said. Just one more mountain.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Hello, Gwyn,' he said warmly. 'Good to see you again.' Gwyn blushed, shaking herself out of her stupor and bowed low. 'My lord.' Nesta rolled her eyes, and found Rhys watching her. That casual smile sharpened as he met her stare. 'Nesta.' 'Rhysand.' The other two women were glancing between them, the bouncing of their stares almost comical. Cassian just strode to Nesta's side and slung an arm around her shoulders before drawling to Rhys, 'These ladies are going to hand your ass to you in combat soon enough.' Nesta made to step out from under the heavy, sweaty weight of his arm, but Cassian clamped a too-friendly hand on her shoulder, his grin unfaltering. Rhys's gaze slid between them, little warmth to be found in his eyes. But plenty of wariness. Little princeling didn't like her with his friend. Nesta leaned into Cassian. Not much, but enough for a trained warrior like Rhysand to note. A dark, silken hand brushed inside her mind. A request. She debated ignoring it, but found herself opening a small door through the steel, spiked barrier she kept around herself day and night. The door was essentially a peephole, and she allowed what she supposed was the equivalent of her mental face to peer through it to the dark, sparkling plane beyond. What? You are to treat Gwyn with kindness and respect. The thing that stood beyond the fortress of her mind was a creature of claws, scales and teeth. It was veiled from sight beneath writhing shadows and the occasional passing star glinting in the darkness, but every now and then, a glimpse of a wing or talon shone. Mind your own business. Nesta slammed the small viewing hole shut. She blinked, slowly registering Emerie asking Cassian about tomorrow morning's lesson, and what she'd miss today by leaving an hour early. Rhysand's eyes glimmered. Cassian's arm remained around Nesta, and his thumb moved over her shoulder in an idle, reassuring caress. Whether he knew of or sensed her silent conversation with his High Lord, he didn't let on.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Helion, High Lord of the Day Court, arrived at the Hewn City the next afternoon on a flying horse. He'd wanted to enter the dark city in a golden chariot led by four snow-white horses with manes of golden fire, Rhys had told Cassian, but Rhys had forbidden the chariot and horses, and let Helion know that he could winnow in or not come at all. Hence the pegasus. Helion's idea of a compromise. Cassian had heard the rumours of Helion's rage pegasuses. Myth claimed his prized stallion had flown so high the sun had scorched him black, but beholding the beast now... Well, Cassian might have been envious, if he didn't have wings himself.”

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“Cassian watched Rhys's face carefully as Nesta and Emerie spoke, and Gwyn drifted over to join them. Promises of books to be swapped filled the air. Rhys said to him, This is an interesting development. Cassian didn't bother to make his face look pleasant. I could have done without you giving Nesta a mental warning. Rhys's brows narrowed. How did you know I did that? The bastard didn't even try to deny it. I noticed the way she tensed. And I know you well, brother. You saw Gwyn and thought the worst of Nesta. She's treated her- and Emerie- with kindness. That's what pissed you off? I'm pissed off that you can't seem to believe even one good thing about her. That you refuse to fucking believe one good thing about her. Was it necessary to bait her like that? Regret glimmered in Rhys's eyes. Cassian went on. You're not making it easier. Let her build these bonds, and stay the hell out of it. Rhys blinked. I'm sorry. I will. Cassian blew out a breath. Rhys added. Did you really feel you had to put your arm around her shoulders to restrain her. I don't want the two of you within three feet of each other. You have a pregnant mate, Rhys. You'll kill anyone that presents a threat to Feyre. You're a danger to all of us right now. I'd never harm someone Feyre loves. You know that.”

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“The dream had been real and not real, and there had been no end to it, no escape. Until a familiar male voice had said her name. And the terror had stopped, as if the axis of the world had shifted toward that voice. That voice, which became a doorway, full of light and strength. Nesta had reached a hand toward it. And then there had been another male voice in her mind, and this one had been familiar as well, and full of power. But it had been kind in a way she had never heard the voice be to her, and it had eased her from the black pit of the dream, leading her with a star-flecked hand back to a land of drifting clouds and rolling hills under a bright moon. She had curled up on one of those hills, safe and guarded in the moonlight, and slept. Nesta dozed, heavy and dreamless, and did not open her eyes until sunlight, not moonlight, kissed her face.”

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“Nesta was just settling herself at the dining table, stomach gurgling with hunger, when Cassian entered. Limped in was more like it. She couldn't stop a near-silent gasp from escaping her as she took in the black eye, the split lip, the bruised jaw. 'What happened?' she demanded. Cassian shuffle-hopped to his chair and then dropped into it. 'I sparred with Rhys.' 'You look like a tenderised piece of meat.' 'You should see him.' He laughed hoarsely. 'Why did you fight like that?' If it had something to do with her nightmare- 'Rhys needed to get it out of his system.' Cassian sighed at the bowl of roast chicken and rice soup that appeared before him. 'Despite the smooth exterior my brother presents to the world, he needs to let loose every now and then.' 'Your idea of letting loose and mine appear to be very different.”

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“Considering that Nesta brushed off Helion's smouldering advances during the war, he might not be so inclined to help her.' 'He'll help,' Rhys said, stars shimmering in his gaze. 'If only for another shot at her.' Nesta rolled her eyes, and the gesture was so normal that Cassian's smile became more genuine, edged now with relief. You wear your heart for all to see, brother, Rhys said without turning Cassian's way. Cassian only shrugged. He was past caring.”

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“She'd never told him that the reasons he hated her were the same reasons she lived here. Took cold baths some days. Forgot to eat on others. Couldn't stand the crack and snap of a fireplace. And drowned herself in wine and music and pleasure each night. Every damning thing Rhysand thought about her was true- and she'd known it long before he had ever shadowed her doorstep.”

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“She flailed in spinning darkness. Up and down blurred and warped, and she was drowning- Spindly hands slammed into her chest, one wrapping around her throat as her back hit something soft and silty. The bottom. No, she wouldn't end like this, helpless as she'd been that day against the Cauldron- Lips and teeth collided with her mouth, and she screamed as the kelpie kissed her. His black tongue shoved into her mouth, tasting of foul meat. For a heartbeat, she wasn't beneath the water, but against a woodpile in the human lands, Tomas's hard mouth crashing into hers, his hands pawing at her- Nesta struggled to pull her head away, to free her mouth, but air filled her lungs. As if the kelpie had breathed into her. As if he wanted her alive a little longer, to prolong her pain. The kelpie withdrew, and Nesta had enough sense to shut her aching, brutalised mouth, to trap in that breath he had given her. To not question how such a thing was even possible. The kelpie's hands ripped at her body, tearing away every weapon with unerring aim, as if he did not need to see in this darkness, as if those large black eyes could pick up any trickle of light like some deep-sea creature. Her entire body went stiff and unmoving, each brutal touch entitled and furious and delighting in her fear. When he had disarmed her, her lungs were burning again, and she felt that thin male body pushing her into the bottom once more as he shoved his mouth to hers. She gagged, but opened for him, letting him fill her mouth with another life-giving breath that had nothing to do with kindness. His tongue wriggled like a worm against hers, and his spindly, too-large hands ran down her breasts, her waist, and when she gagged again, fighting against her sob, his laugh puffed through her lips. He pulled away, rows of teeth ripping at her mouth as he did, and she shook when he lingered, stroking at her hair. His little prize- that was what the touch said. How he would make her suffer and beg before the end. She had escaped the monsters of the human realm only to find the same ones above the wall. Had escaped from Tomas only to wind up here, raging as she had then.”

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“She had become more, had become something that did not need air to breathe, something that did not understand hate or love or fear or grief. It had scared her more than anything else. That utter lack of feeling. How good it had felt to be so removed. ... She had been aware, yes. Had killed the kelpie because she wished it dead. But all the weight, the echoing thoughts, the hatred and guilt that sliced her like knives- they had vanished. And it had been so seductive, so freeing and lovely, that she'd known the Mask had to be destroyed. If only to save herself from it. ... Everyone else would be safe from its temptation and power- except for her. The one who most needed to be barred from it.”

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“Thunder cracked, and the entire mountain shook with its impact. Bellius took one step toward her, knife lifting. Blood sprayed. At first, she thought it was lightning that flashed across his throat, opening it so wide that his blood showered the snowy air. But then she saw the wings. The other set of wings. And when Bellius slumped to the earth, choking on his lifeblood, revealing Cassian standing there, teeth bared, blade in hand, she wondered if the thunder rocking the mountain had been his rage. Cassian stepped over Bellius's dying body and offered her a hand. Not to sweep her into his arms, but to help her rise. As he had always done. Nesta gripped his hand and stood, her body bleating in protest. But she forgot her pain, the death around them, as he folded her into his chest and held her tightly, whispering tenderly into her bloody hair, 'And now I'm going to slit your pretty little throat.”

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“Do it for the miniature pegasus,' Emerie said. Cassian had no idea what it meant, but Gwyn's lips twitched upward. Nesta laughed. The sound might as well have been a lightning strike to his head for how much it rocked him, that laugh. Free and light and so unlike anything he'd ever heard from her that even Azriel blinked. A true laugh. 'The miniature pegasus,' Nesta said, 'was an illusion. And is now back in his make-believe meadow.' 'He loved Gwyn most,' Emerie teased. 'Despite your efforts to woo him.”

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“Gwyn whispered, 'I am the rock against which the surf crashes,' Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. 'Nothing can break me.' Cassian's throat tightened, and even from across the ring, he could see Nesta's eyes gleaming with pride and pain. Emerie said, 'Nothing can break us.”

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“Please tell me all the chocolate is for us.' The House had stocked the table between the armchairs with piles of chocolate truffles and confections and bars of it. Along with cookies and small finger cakes. And a platter of cheeses and fruit. And carafes of water and various juices. Gwyn surveyed the table. 'Did you go to all this trouble?' 'Oh, no,' Emerie said, eyes glowing. 'Nesta's been holding out on us.' Nesta scoffed, but Emerie said, 'The House will get you anything you want. Just say it aloud.' At Gwyn's raised brows, Emerie said, 'I'd like a slice of pistachio cake, please.' A plateful of one appeared before her. As well as a bowl of whipped cream topped with raspberries. Gwyn blinked. 'You live in a magic house.' 'It likes to read,' Nesta admitted, patting a stack of the romances. 'We've bonded over that.' Gwyn whispered to the room, 'What's your favourite book?' One thumped on the table beside Emerie's cake, and Gwyn squawked in surprise. But then rubbed her hands together. 'Oh, this is delightful.' 'That smile means trouble,' Emerie said. Gwyn's grin just widened.”

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