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A Court of Thorns and Roses

Book by Sarah J. Maas · 50 quotes · Feyre, A Court Of Thorns And Roses, Sarah J Maas

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A Court of Thorns and Roses Quotes

“Why?" I asked. He knew what I meant, and shrugged. "Because when the legends get written, I didn't want to be remembered for standing on the sidelines. I want my future offspring to know that I was there, and that I fought against her at the end, even if I couldn't do anything useful." I blinked, this time not at the brightness of the sun. "Because," he went on, his eyes locked with mine, "I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone.”

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“I looked toward the small vent in the corner of the ceiling through which the music entered my cell. The source must have been far away, for it was just a faint stirring of notes, but when I closed my eyes, I could hear it more clearly. I could... see it. As if it were a grand painting, a living mural. There was beauty in the music- beauty and goodness. The music folded over itself like batter being poured from a bowl, one note atop another, melting together to form a whole, rising, filling me. It wasn't wild music, but there was a violence of passion in it, a swelling kind of joy and sorrow. I pulled my knees to my chest, needing to feel the sturdiness of my skin, even with the slime of the oily paint upon it. The music built a path, an ascent founded upon archways of colour. I followed it, walking out of that cell, through layers of earth, up and up- into fields of cornflowers, past a canopy of trees, and into the open expanse of sky. The pulse of the music was like hands that gently pushed me onward, pulling me higher, guiding me through the clouds. I'd never seen clouds like these- in their puffy sides, I could discern faces fair and sorrowful. They faded before I could view them too clearly, and I looked into the distance to where the music summoned me. It was either a sunset or a sunrise. The sun filled the clouds with magenta and purple, and its orange-gold rays blended with my path to form a band of shimmering metal. I wanted to fade into it, wanted the light of that sun to burn me away, to fill me with such joy that I would become a ray of sunshine myself. This wasn't music to dance to- it was music to worship, music to fill in the gaps of my soul, to bring me to a place where there was no pain. I didn't realise I was weeping until the wet warmth of a tear splashed upon my arm. But even then I clung to the music, gripping it like a ledge that kept me from falling. I hadn't realised how badly I didn't want to tumble into that deep dark- how much I wanted to stay here among the clouds and colour and light. I let the sounds ravage me, let them lay me flat and run over my body with their drums. Up and up, building to a palace in the sky, a hall of alabaster and moonstone, where all that was lovely and kind and fantastic dwelled in peace. I wept- wept to be so close to that palace, wept for the need to be there. Everything I wanted was there- the one I loved was there- The music was Tamlin's fingers strumming my body; it was the gold of his eyes and the twist of his smile. It was that breathy chuckle, and the way he said those three words. It was this I was fighting for, this I had sworn to save. The music rose- louder, grander, faster, from wherever it was played- a wave that peaked, shattering the gloom of my cell. A shuddering sob broke from me at the sound faded into silence. I sat there trembling and weeping, too raw and exposed, left naked by the music and the colour in my mind.”

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“The walls weren't moving, and the room was open - gaping. No colors, but shades of darkness, of night . Only those star-flecked violet eyes were bright, full of color and light. He gave me a lazy smile before he leaned forward. I pulled away, but his hands were like shackles. I could do nothing as his mouth met with my cheek, and he licked away a tear. His tongue was hot against my skin, so startling that I couldn't move as he licked away another path of salt water, and then another. My body went taut and loose all at once and I burned, even as chills shuddered along my limbs. It was only when his tongue danced along the damp edges of my lashes that I jerked back. He chuckled as I scrambled for the corner of the cell. I wiped my face as I glared at him. He smirked, sitting down against a wall. "I figured that would get you to stop crying." "It was disgusting." I wiped my face again. "Was it?" He quirked an eyebrow and pointed to his palm - to the place where my tattoo would be. "Beneath all your pride and stubbornness, I could have sworn I detected something that felt differently. Interesting." "Get out." "As usual, your gratitude is overwhelming.”

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“Lucien,' my captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. 'Behave.' Lucien went rigid, but he hopped off the edge of the table and bowed deeply to me. 'My apologies, lady.' Another joke at my expense. 'I'm Lucien. Courtier and emissary.' He gestured to me with a flourish. 'Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold.”

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“How... how long do I have to go away for?' He didn't reply. 'A week?' No answer. 'A month?' He shook his head slowly. My upper lip curled, but I forced myself in to neutrality. 'A year?' That much time away from him... 'I don't know.' 'But not forever, right?' Even if the blight spread to the Spring Court again, even if it could shred me apart... I would come back. He brushed the hair from my face. I shook him off. 'I suppose it'll be easier if I'm gone,' I said, looking away from him. 'Who wants someone around who's so covered in thorns?' 'Thorns?' 'Thorny. Prickly. Sour. Contrary.' He leaned forward and kissed me lightly. 'Not forever,' he said onto my mouth. And though I knew it was a lie, I put my arms around his neck and kissed him.”

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“I had to tilt my head back to see his face. His mouth was caught somewhere between a smile and a wince. 'What?' I asked, and put a hand on his chest, preparing to shove myself back. But his other hand slipped under my hair, resting at the base of my neck. 'I'm thinking I might kiss you,' he said quietly, intently. 'Then do it,' I blushed at my own boldness. But Tamlin only gave that breathy laugh, and leaned in. His lips brushed mine- testing, soft and warm. He pulled back a little. He was still staring at me, and I stared right back as he kissed me again, harder, but nothing like the way he'd kissed my neck. He withdrew more fully this time and watched me. 'That's it?' I demanded, and he laughed and kissed me fiercly. My hands went around his neck, pulling him closer, crushing myself against him. His hands roved my back, playing in my hair, grasping my waist, as if he couldn't touch enough of me at once. He let out a low groan. 'Come,' he said, kissing my brow. 'We'll miss it if we don't go now.' 'Better than will-o'-the-wisps?' I asked, but he kissed my cheeks, my neck, and finally my lips. I followed him into the trees, through the ever-lightening world.”

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“I couldn’t talk about it, about them—not yet. So I breathed “Later” and hooked my feet around his legs, drawing him closer. I placed my hands on his chest, feeling the heart beating beneath. This—I needed this right now. It wouldn’t wash away what I’d done, but … I needed him near, needed to smell and taste him, remind myself that he was real—this was real. “Later,” he echoed, and leaned down to kiss me. It was soft, tentative—nothing like the wild, hard kisses we’d shared in the hall of throne room. He brushed his lips against mine again. I didn’t want apologies, didn’t want sympathy or coddling. I gripped the front of his tunic, tugging him closer as I opened my mouth to him. He let out a low growl, and the sound of it sent a wildfire blazing through me, pooling and burning in my core. I let it burn through that hole in my chest, my soul. Let it raze through the wave of black that was starting to press around me, let it consume the phantom blood I could still feel on my hands. I gave myself to that fire, to him, as his hands roved across me, unbuttoning as he went. I pulled back, breaking the kiss to look into his face. His eyes were bright—hungry—but his hands had stopped their exploring and rested firmly on my hips. With a predator’s stillness, he waited and watched as I traced the contours of his face, as I kissed every place I touched. His ragged breathing was the only sound—and his hands soon began roaming across my back and sides, caressing and teasing and baring me to him. When my traveling fingers reached his mouth, he bit down on one, sucking it into his mouth. It didn’t hurt, but the bite was hard enough for me to meet his eyes again. To realize that he was done waiting—and so was I. He eased me onto the bed, murmuring my name against my neck, the shell of my ear, the tips of my fingers. I urged him—faster, harder. His mouth explored the curve of my breast, the inside of my thigh. A kiss for each day we’d spent apart, a kiss for every wound and terror, a kiss for the ink etched into my flesh, and for all the days we would be together after this. Days, perhaps, that I no longer deserved. But I gave myself again to that fire, threw myself into it, into him, and let myself burn.”

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“Tamlin’s arm tightened around me, and he kissed the top of my head. I pulled back, looking up at him. The gold in his eyes, bright with the rising sun, flickered. “What?” “My father once told me that I should let my sisters imagine a better life—a better world. And I told him that there was no such thing.” I ran my thumb over his mouth, marveling, and shook my head. “I never understood—because I couldn’t … couldn’t believe that it was even possible.” I swallowed, lowering my hand. “Until now.” His throat bobbed. His kiss that time was deep and thorough, unhurried and intent. I let the dawn creep inside me, let it grow with each movement of his lips and brush of his tongue against mine. Tears pricked beneath my closed eyes. It was the happiest moment of my life.”

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“His tunic was unbuttoned at the top, and he ran a hand through his blue-black hair before he wordlessly slumped against the wall across from me and slid to the floor. "What do you want?" I demanded. "A moment of peace and quiet," he snapped, rubbing his temples. I paused. "From what?" He massaged his pale skin, making the corners of his eyes go up and down, out and in. He sighed. "From this mess." I sat up farther on my pallet of the hay. I'd never seen him so candid. "That damned bitch is running me ragged," he went on, and dropped his hands from his temples to lean his head against the wall. "You hate me. Imagine how you'd feel if I made you serve in my bedroom. I'm High Lord of the Night Court - not her harlot." So the slurs were true. And I could imagine very easily how much I would hate him - what it would do to me - to be enslaved to someone like that. "Why are you telling me this?" The swagger and nastiness were gone. "Because I'm tired and lonely, and you're the only person I can talk to without putting myself at risk." He let out a low laugh. "How absurd: a High Lord of Prythian and a - " "You can leave if you're just going to insult me." "But I'm so good at it". He flashed one of his grins. I glared at him, but he sighted. "One wrong move tomorrow, Freyre, and we're all doomed.”

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“A long table- longer than any we'd ever possessed at out manor- filled most of the space. It was laden with food and wine- so much food, some of it wafting tendrils of steam, that my mouth watered. At least it was familiar, and not some strange faerie delicacy: chicken, bread, peas, fish, asparagus, lamb... it could have been a feast at any mortal manor.”

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“Don’t know if I should be pleased or worried,” Alis said the next night as she slid the golden underdress over my upraised arms, then tugged it down. I smiled a bit, marveling at the intricate metallic lace that clung to my arms and torso like a second skin before falling loosely to the rug. “It’s just a dress,” I said, lifting my arms again as she brought over the gossamer turquoise overgown. It was sheer enough to see the gleaming gold mesh beneath, and light and airy and full of movement, as if it flowed on an invisible current. Alis just chuckled to herself and guided me over to the vanity to work on my hair. I didn’t have the courage to look at the mirror as she fussed over me. “Does this mean you’ll be wearing gowns from now on?” she asked, separating sections of my hair for whatever wonders she was doing to it. “No,” I said quickly. “I mean—I’ll be wearing my usual clothes during the day, but I thought it might be nice to … try it out, at least for tonight.” “I see. Good that you aren’t losing your common sense entirely, then.”

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“Tamlin's fingers brushed my mouth. The carriage jolted as the six white horses started into a walk. I bit my lip to keep it from wobbling. Tamlin smiled at me one last time. 'I love you,' he said, and stepped away. I should say it- I should say those words, but they got stuck in my throat, because... because of what he had to face, because he might not find me again despite his promise, because.... because beneath it all, he was an immortal, and I would grow old and die. And maybe he meant it now, and perhaps last night had been as altering for him as it had been for me, but... I would not become a burden to him. I would not become another weight pressing upon his shoulders. So I said nothing as the carriage moved. And I did not look back as we passed through the manor gates and into the forest beyond.”

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“I knew- with a sudden, uncoiling clarity- that Nesta would buy Elain time to run. Not my father, whom she resented with her entire steely heart. Not me, because Nesta had always known and hated that she and I were two sides of the same coin, and that I could fight my own battles. But Elain, the flower-grower, the gentle heart... Nesta would go down swinging for her.”

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“I shouted over the music, 'I don't need a keeper"' I wanted to spin and spin and spin. 'No, you don't,' Tamlin said, never once stumbling over his playing. How his bow did dance upon the strings, his fingers sturdy and strong, no sign of those claws that I had come to stop fearing... 'Dance, Feyre,' he whispered. So I did. I was loosened, a top whirling around and around, and I didn't know who I danced with or what they looked like, only that I had become the music and the fire and the night, and there was nothing that could slow me down. Through it all, Tamlin and his musicians played such joyous music that I didn't think the world could contain it all. I sashayed over to him, my faerie lord, my protector and warrior, my friend, and danced before him. He grinned at me, and I didn't break my dancing as he rose from his seat and knelt before me in the grass, offering up a solo on his fiddle to me. Music just for me- a gift. He played on, his fingers fast and hard upon the strings of his fiddle. My body slithering like a snake, I tipped my head back to the heavens and let Tamlin's music fill all of me. There was a pressure at my waist and I was swept away in someone's arms as they whisked me back into the ring of dancing. I laughed so hard I thought I'd combust, and when I opened my eyes, I found Tamlin there, spinning me round and round. Everything became a blur of colour and sound, and he was the only object in it, tethering me to sanity, to my body, which glowed and burned in every place he touched. I was filled with sunshine. It was like I'd never experienced summer before, like I'd never known who was waiting to emerge from that forest of ice and snow. I didn't want it to end- I never wanted to leave this hilltop.”

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“Feyre,' he said- softly enough that I faced him again. 'Why?' He tilted his head to the side. 'You dislike our kind on a good day. And after Andras...' Even in the darkened hallway, his usually bright eyes were shadowed. 'So why?' I took a step closer to him, my blood-covered feet sticking to the rug. I glanced down the stairs to where I could still see the prone form of the faerie and the stumps of his wings. 'Because I wouldn't want to die alone,' I said, and my voice wobbled as I looked at Tamlin again, forcing myself to meet his stare. 'Because I'd want someone to hold my hand until the end, and awhile after that. That's something everyone deserves, human or faerie.' I swallowed hard, my throat painfully tight. 'I regret what I did to Andras,' I said, the words so strangled they were no more than a whisper. 'I regret that there was... such hate in my heart. I wish I could undo it- and... I'm sorry. So very sorry.' I couldn't remember the last time- if ever- I'd spoken to anyone like that. But he just nodded and turned away, and I wondered if I should say more, if I should kneel and beg for his forgiveness. If he felt such grief, such guilt, over a stranger, than Andras... By the time I opened my mouth, he was already down the steps. I watched him- watched every movement he made, the muscles of his body visible through that blood-soaked tunic, watched that invisible weight bearing down on his shoulders. He didn't look at me as he scooped up the broken body and carried it to the garden doors beyond my line of sight. I went to the window at the top of the stairs, watching as Tamlin carried the faerie through the moonlit garden and into the rolling fields beyond. He never once glanced back.”

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“I couldn't come up with any words when we arrived- and knew that even if I had been able to paint it, nothing would have done it justice. It wasn't simply that it was the most beautiful place I'd ever been to, or that it filled me with both longing and mirth, but it just seemed... right. As if the colours and lights and patterns of the world had come together to form one perfect place- one true bit of beauty. After last night, it was exactly where I needed to be. We sat atop a grassy knoll, overlooking a glade of oaks so wide and high they could have been the pillars and spires of an ancient castle. Shimmering tufts of dandelion fluff drifted by, and the floor of the clearing was carpeted with swaying crocuses and snowdrops and bluebells. It was an hour or two past noon by the time we arrived, but the light was thick and golden. Though the three of us were alone, I could have sworn I heard singing. I hugged my knees and drank in the glen.”

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“I could feel the full weight of Tamlin's undivided attention on me- on every breath and movement I took. I studied the candelabras atop the mantel beside the table. I had nothing to say that didn't sound absurd- yet for some reason, my mouth decided to start moving. 'You're so far away.' I gestured to the expanse of table between us. 'It's like you're in another room.' The quarters of the table vanished, leaving Tamlin not two feet away, sitting at an infinitely more intimate table. I yelped and almost tipped over in my chair. He laughed as I gaped at the small table that now stood between us. 'Better?' he asked. I ignored the metallic tang of magic as I said, 'How... how did you do that? Where did it go?' He cocked his head. 'Between. Think of it as... a broom closet tucked between pockets of the world.' He flexed his hands and rolled his neck, as if shaking off some pain. 'Does it tax you?' Sweat seemed to gleam on the strong column of his neck. He stopped flexing his hands and set them flat on the table. 'Once, it was an easy as breathing. But now... it requires concentration.' Because of the blight on Prythian and the toll it had taken on him. 'You could have just taken a closer seat,' I said. Tamlin gave me a lazy grin. 'And miss a chance to show off to a beautiful woman? Never.' I smiled down at my plate.' 'You do look beautiful,' he said quietly. 'I mean it,' he added when my mouth twisted to the side. 'Didn't you look in the mirror?' Though his bruise still marred my neck, I had looked pretty. Feminine. I wouldn't go so far to call myself a beauty, but... I hadn't cringed. A few months here had done wonders for the awkward sharpness and angles of my face. And I dared say that some kind of light had crept in to my eyes- my eyes, not my mother's eyes or Nesta's eyes. Mine.”

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“I walked to the painting on the easel. It was an impression, not a lifelike rendering. 'I wanted you to see this one,' I said, pointing to the smear of green and gold and silver and blue. 'It's for you. A gift. For everything you've done.' Heat flared in my cheeks, my neck, my ears, as he silently approached the painting. 'It's the glen- with the pool of starlight,' I said quickly. 'I know what it is,' he murmured, studying the painting. I backed away a step, unable to bear watching him look at it, wishing I hadn't brought him in here, blaming it on the wine I'd had at dinner, on the stupid dress. He examined the painting for a miserable eternity, then looked away- to the nearest painting leaning against the wall. My gut tightened. A hazy landscape of snow and skeletal trees and nothing else. It looked like.... like nothing, I supposed, to anyone but me. I opened my mouth to explain, wishing I'd turned the others away from view, but he spoke. 'That was your forest. Where you hunted.' He came close to the painting, gazing at the bleak, empty cold, the white and grey and brown and black. 'This was your life,' he clarified. I was too mortified, too stunned, to reply. He walked to the next painting I'd left against the wall. Darkness and dense brown, flickers of ruby red and orange squeezing between them. 'Your cottage at night.' I tried to move, to tell him to stop looking at those ones and look at the others I'd laid out, but I couldn't- couldn't even breathe properly as he moved to the next painting. A tanned, sturdy male hand fisted in the hay, the pale pieces of it entwined among strands of brown coated with gold- my hair. My gut twisted. 'The man you used to see- in your village.' He cocked his head again as he studied the picture, and a low growl slipped out. 'While you made love.' He stepped back, looking at the row of pictures. 'This is the only one with brightness.' Was that... jealousy? 'It was the only escape I had.' Truth. I wouldn't apologise for Issac. Not when Tamlin had just been in the Great Rite. I didn't hold that against him- but if he was going to be jealous of Issac- Tamlin must have realised it, too, for he loosed a long, controlled breath before moving to the next painting. Tall shadows of men, bright red dripping off their fists, off their wooden clubs, hovering and filling the edges of the painting as they towered over the curled figure on the floor, the blood leaking from him, the leg at a wrong angle. Tamlin swore. 'You were there when they wrecked your father's leg.' 'Someone had to beg them to stop.' Tamlin threw a too-knowing glance in my direction and turned to look at the rest of the paintings. There they were, all the wounds I'd slowly been leeching these few months. I blinked. A few months. Did my family believe that I would be forever away with this so-called dying aunt? At last, Tamlin looked at the painting of the glen and the starlight. He nodded in appreciation. But he pointed to the painting of the snow-veiled woods. 'That one. I want that one.' 'It's cold and melancholy,' I said, hiding my wince. 'It doesn't suit this place at all.' He went up to it, and the smile he gave me was more beautiful than any enchanted meadow or pool of stars. 'I want it nonetheless,' he said softly.”

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“What do you care?" I barked, and his grip tightened enough on my wrists that I knew my bones would snap with a little more pressure. "What do I care?" he breathed, wrath twisting his features. Wings - those membranous, glorious wings - flared from his back, crafted from the shadows behind him. "What do I care?" But before he could go on, his head snapped to the door, then back to my face. The wings vanished as quickly as they had appeared, and then his lips were crushing into mine. His tongue pried my mouth open, forcing himself into me, into the space where I could still taste Tamlin. I pushed and trashed, but he held firm, his tongue sweeping over the roof of my mouth, against my teeth, claiming me - The door was flung wide, and Amarantha's curved figure filled its space. Tamlin - Tamlin was beside her, his eyes slightly wide, shoulders tight as Rhys's lips still crushed mine. Amarantha laughed, and a mask of stone slammed down on Tamlin's face. void of feeling, void of anything vaguely like the Tamlin I'd been tangled up with moments before.”

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“He opened an eye and smiled lazily at me. 'That willow's singing always puts me to sleep.' 'The what of what?' I said, propping myself on my elbows to stare at the tree above us.' Tamlin pointed toward the willow. The branches sighed as they moved in the breeze. 'It sings.' 'I suppose it sings war-camp limericks, too?' He smiled and half sat up, twisting to look at me. 'You're human,' he said and I rolled my eyes. 'Your senses are still sealed off from everything.' I made a face. 'Just another of my many shortcomings.' But the word- shortcomings- had somehow stopped finding its mark. He plucked a strand of grass from my hair. Heat radiated from my face as his fingers grazed my cheek. 'I could make you able to see it,' he said. His fingers lingered at the end of my braid, twirling the curl of hair around. 'See my world- hear it, smell it.' My breathing became shallow as he sat up. 'Taste it.' His eyes flicked to the fading bruise on my neck. 'How?' I asked, heat blooming as he crouched before me. 'Every gift comes with a price.' I frowned, and he grinned. 'A kiss.' 'Absolutely not!' But my blood raced, and I had to clench my hands in the grass to keep from touching him. 'Don't you think it puts me at a disadvantage to not be able to see all this?' 'I'm one of the High Fae- we don't give anything without gaining something from it.' To my own surprise, I said, 'Fine.' He blinked, probably expecting me to have fought a little harder. I hid my smile and sat up so that I faced him, our knees touching as we knelt in the grass. I licked my lips, my heart fluttering so quickly it felt as if I had a hummingbird inside my chest. 'Close your eyes,' he said, and I obeyed, my fingers grappling onto the grass. The birds chattered, and the willow branches sighed. The grass crunched as Tamlin rose up on his knees. I braced myself at the brush of his mouth on one of my eyelids, then on the other. He pulled away, and I was left breathless, the kisses still lingering on my skin.”

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“What about your part of the bargain?' 'What?' He leaned closer, his smile turning wicked. 'What about my kiss?' I grabbed his fingers. 'Here,' I said, and slammed my mouth against the back of his hand. 'There's your kiss.' Tamlin roared with laughter, but the world blurred, lulling me to sleep.”

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“Every gift comes with a price.” I frowned, and he grinned. “A kiss.” “Absolutely not!” But my blood raced, and I had to clench my hands in the grass to keep from touching him. “Don’t you think it puts me at a disadvantage to not be able to see all this?” “I’m one of the High Fae—we don’t give anything without gaining something from it.” To my own surprise, I said, “Fine.” He blinked, probably expecting me to have fought a little harder. I hid my smile and sat up so that I faced him, our knees touching as we knelt in the grass. “What about your part of the bargain?” “What?” He leaned closer, his smile turning wicked. “What about my kiss?” I grabbed his fingers. “Here,” I said, and slammed my mouth against the back of his hand. “There’s your kiss.”

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“You murdered my friend,' the beast snarled. 'Murdered him, skinned his corpse, sold it at the market, and then said he deserved it, and yet you have the nerve to question my generosity?' How typically human, he seemed to silently add. 'You didn't need to mention the loophole.' I stepped so close the faerie's breath heated my face. Faerie's couldn't lie, but they could omit information. The beast snarled again. 'Foolish of me to forget that humans have such low opinions of us. Do you humans no longer understand mercy?' he said, his fangs inches from my throat.”

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“She has the most delicious thoughts about you, Tamlin,” he said. “She’s wondered about the feeling of your fingers on her thighs—between them, too.” He chuckled. Even as he said my most private thoughts, even as I burned with outrage and shame, I trembled at the grip still on my mind. Rhysand turned to the High Lord. “I’m curious: Why did she wonder if it would feel good to have you bite her breast the way you bit her neck?” “Let. Her. Go.” Tamlin’s face was twisted with such feral rage that it struck a different, deeper chord of terror in me. “If it’s any consolation,” Rhysand confided to him, “she would have been the one for you—and you might have gotten away with it. A bit late, though. She’s more stubborn than you are.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“One shot- one shot straight through that golden eye. A plume of blood splattering the snow, a thud of a heavy body, a sigh of wind. No. It wasn't a wolf that hit the snow- no, it was a man, tall, and well formed. No- not a man. A High Fae, with those pointed ears. I blinked, and then- then my hands were warm and sticky with blood, then his body was red and skinless, steaming in the cold, and it was his skin- his skin- that I held in my hands, and-”

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“My throat closed up, and I read and read and read, but no words came. The air became thick and stank of metal- not magic but burning, unforgiving steel creeping toward me, inch by inch. 'Answer it!' Lucien shouted, his voice hitched. My eyes stung. The world was just a blur of letters, mocking me with their turns and shapes.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“The way I see things, Feyre, you have two options. The first, and the smartest, would be to accept my offer.' I spat at his feet, but he kept pacing, only giving me a disapproving look. 'The second option- and the one only a fool would take- would be for you to refuse my offer and place your life, and thus Tamlin's, in the hands of chance.' He stopped pacing and stared hard at me. Though the world spun and danced in my vision, something primal inside me went still and cold beneath that gaze. 'Let's say I walk out of here. Perhaps Lucien will come to your aid within five minutes of my leaving. Perhaps he'll come in five days. Perhaps he won't come at all. Between you and me, he's been keeping a low profile after his rather embarrassing outburst at your trial. Amarantha's not exactly pleased with him. Tamlin even broke his delightful brooding to beg for him to be spared- such a noble warrior, your High Lord. She listened, of course- but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien's punishment. Twenty lashes.' I started shaking, sick all over again to think about what it had to have been like for my High Lord to be the one to punish his friend. Rhysand shrugged, a beautiful, easy gesture. 'So, it's really a question of how much you're willing to trust Lucien- and how much you're willing to risk for it. Already you're wondering if that fever of yours is the first sign of infection. Perhaps they're unconnected, perhaps not. Maybe it's fine. Maybe that worm's mud isn't full of festering filth. And maybe Amarantha will send a healer, and by that time, you'll either be dead, or they'll find your arm so infected that you'll be lucky to keep anything above the elbow.' My stomach tightened into a painful ball. 'I don't need to invade your thoughts to know these things. I already know what you've slowly been realising.' He again crouched in front of me. 'You're dying.' My eyes stung and I sucked my lips into my mouth. 'How much are you willing to risk on the hope that another form of help will come?' I stared at him, sending as much hate as I could into my gaze. He'd been the one who'd caused all this. He'd told Amarantha about Clare, he'd made Tamlin beg. 'Well?' I bared my teeth. 'Go. TO. Hell.' Swift as lightning, he lashed out, grabbing the shard of bone in my arm and twisting. A scream shattered out of me, ravaging my aching throat. The world flashed black and white and red. I thrashed and writhed but he kept his grip, twisting the bone a final time before releasing my arm. Panting, half sobbing as the pain reverberated through my body, I found him smirking at me again. I spat in his face. He only laughed as he stood, wiping his cheek with the dark sleeve of his tunic. 'This is the last time I'll extend my assistance,' he said pausing by the cell door. 'Once I leave this cell, my offer is dead.' I spat again, and he shook his head. 'I bet you'll be spitting on Death's face when she comes to claim you, too.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Do you know the answer to the riddle?' He crossed his arms. 'Cheating, are you?' 'She never said I couldn't ask for help.' 'Ah, but after she had you beaten to hell, she ordered us not to help you.' I waited. But he shook his head. 'Even if I felt like helping you, I couldn't. She gives the order, and we all bow to it.' He picked a fleck of dust off his black jacket. 'It's a good thing she likes me, isn't it?' I opened my mouth to press him- to beg him. If it meant instantaneous freedom- 'Don't waste your breath,' he said. 'I can't tell you- no one here can. If she ordered us all to stop breathing, we would have to obey that, too.' He frowned at me and snapped his fingers. The soot, the dirt, the ash vanished off my skin, leaving me as clean as if I'd bathed. 'There. A gift- for having the balls to even ask.' I gave him a flat stare, but he motioned to the hearth. It was spotless- and my bucket was filled with lentils.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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