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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

“I got back in time to hear your little spat with Tam, and decided I was safer up here. I'm glad to hear your human heart has warmed to me, though. At least I'm not on the top of your killing list.' I gave him a long look. 'Well,' he went on, shrugging, 'it seems that you managed to get under Tam's fur enough that he sought me out and nearly bit my head off. So I suppose I can thank you for ruining what should have been a peaceful lunch.”

“He smiled at me still, broadly and without restraint or hesitation. Issac had never smiled at me like that. Issac had never made my breath catch, just a little bit. The feeling was startling enough that I walked out, grasping the crumpled paper in my pocket as if doing so could somehow keep that answering smile from tugging on my lips.”

“The singing of birds became an orchestra- a symphony of gossip and mirth. I'd never heard so many layers of music, never heard the variations and themes that wove between their arpeggios. And beyond the birdsong, there was an ethereal melody- a woman, melancholy and weary... the willow. Gasping, I opened my eyes. The world had become richer, clearer. The brook was a near-invisible rainbow of water that flowed over stones as invitingly smooth as silk. The trees were clothed in a faint shimmer that radiated from their centres and danced along the edges of their leaves. There was no tangy metallic stench- no, the smell of magic had become like jasmine, like lilac, like roses. I would never be able to paint it, the richness, the feel- Maybe fractions of it, but not the whole thing. Magic- everything was magic, and it broke my heart.”

“He picked up the small painting of the frozen forest and examined it again. 'I've had many lovers,' he admitted. 'Females of noble birth, warriors, princesses...' Rage hit me, low and deep in the gut at the thought of them- rage at their titles, their undoubtedly good looks, at their closeness to him. 'But they never understood. What it was like, what it is like, for me to care for my people, my lands. What scars are still there, what the bad days feel like.' That wrathful jealousy faded away like morning dew as he smiled at my painting. 'This reminds me of it.' 'Of what?' I breathed. He lowered the painting, looking right at me, right into me. 'That I'm not alone.' I didn't lock my bedroom door that night.”

“He hung his head, sighing deeply as his hand tightened on mine. 'Feyre... I wish...' He shook his head and cleared his throat. 'I'm sending you home, Feyre.' Something inside me splintered. 'What?' 'I'm sending you home,' he repeated, and though his words were stronger- louder- they trembled a bit. ... My chest caved in. Leaving- free. 'Did I do something wrong-' He lifted my hands to press it to his lower cheek. He was so invitingly warm. 'You did nothing wrong.' He turned his face to kiss my palm. 'You were perfect,' he murmured onto my skin, then lowered my hand. 'Then why do I have to go?' I yanked my hand away. 'Because there are... there are people who would hurt you, Feyre. Hurt you because of what you are to me. I thought I would be able to handle them, to shield you from it, but after today... I can't. So you need to go home- far from here. You'll be safe there.”

“Don't ever disobey me again,' he said, his voice a deep purr that ricocheted through me, awakening everything and lulling it into complicity. Then I reconsidered his words and straightened. He grinned at me in that wild way, and my hand connected with his face. 'Don't tell me what to do,' I breathed, my palm stinging. 'And don't bite me like some enraged beast.' He chuckled bitterly. The moonlight turned his eyes to the colour of leaves in shadow.”

“I opened the drawers of the vanity, searching for a scarf or something to cover the bruise peeking over the collar of my blue tunic, but then paused and glared at myself in the mirror. He'd acted like a brute and a savage, and if he'd come to his senses by this morning, then seeing what he'd done would be minimal punishment. Sniffing, I opened the collar of my tunic further and tucked stray strands of my golden-brown hair behind my ears so there would be no concealing it. I was beyond cowering.”

“I looked to Tamlin, and my heart cracked entirely. It was Tamlin, but not. Rather, it was the Tamlin I'd dreamed of. His skin gleamed with a golden sheen, and around his head glowed a circlet of sunshine. And his eyes... Not merely green and gold, but every hue and variation that could be imagined, as though every leaf in the forest had bled into one shade. This was a High Lord of Prythian- devastatingly handsome, captivating, powerful beyond belief.”

“I should bring you home,' he murmured, but he didn't move to drag me to my feet. Instead, I felt a slight thud in the earth, and the spring rain and new grass scent of him cloyed in my nose as he lay beside me. I tingled with pleasure as he stroked my hair. This was such a lovely dream. I'd never slept so wonderfully before. So warm, nestled beside him. Calm. Faintly, echoing into my world of slumber, he spoke again, his breath caressing my eye. 'You're exactly as I dreamed you'd be too.' Darkness swallowed everything.”

“He hung his head, sighing deeply as his hand tightened on mine. 'Feyre... I wish...' He shook his head and cleared his throat. 'I'm sending you home, Feyre.' Something inside me splintered. 'What?' 'I'm sending you home,' he repeated, and though his words were stronger- louder- they trembled a bit. ... My chest caved in. Leaving- free. 'Did I do something wrong-' He lifted my hand to press it to his lower cheek. He was so invitingly warm. 'You did nothing wrong.' He turned his face to kiss my palm. 'You were perfect,' he murmured onto my skin, then lowered my hand.”

“You're hardly more than skin and bones,' she said, her fingers luxurious against my scalp. 'Winter does that to poor mortals,' I said, fighting to keep the sharpness from my tone. She huffed a laugh. 'If you're wise, you'll keep your mouth shut and your ears open. It'll do you more good here than a loose tongue. And keep your wits about you- even your senses will try to betray you here.”

“A half-wild beast, Nesta had called me. But compared to him, compared to this place, compared to the elegant, easy way they held their goblets, the way the golden-haired one had called me human... we were all half-wild beasts to the High Fae. Even if they were the ones who could don fur and claws.”

“We all knew, deep down, that there was nothing to be done against the faeries. We'd all been told it, regardless of class or rank, from the moment we were born, the warnings sung to us while we rocked in cradles, the rhymes chanted in schoolyards. One of the High Fae could turn your bones to dust from a hundred yards away. Not that my sisters or I had ever seen it. But we still tried to believe that something- anything- might work against them, if we ever were to encounter them. There were two stalls in the market catering to those fears, offering up charms and baubles and incantations and bits of iron. I couldn't afford them- and if they did indeed work, they would buy us only a few minutes to prepare ourselves. Running was futile; so was fighting.”

“Once- long ago and for millennia before that- we had been slaves to High Fae overlords. Once, we had built them glorious, sprawling civilisations from our blood and sweat, built them temples to their feral gods. Once, we had rebelled, across every land and territory. The War had been so bloody, so destructive, that it took six mortal queens crafting the Treaty for the slaughter to cease on both sides and for the wall to be constructed: the North of our world conceded to the High Fae and faeries, who took their magic with them; the South to we cowering mortals, forever forced to scratch out a living from the earth.”

“I didn't know,' I said. 'Didn't know about that part of the treaty.' Faeries couldn't lie- and he spoke plainly enough, no word-twisting. 'Most of you mortals have chosen to forget that part of the Treaty,' he said, 'which makes punishing you far more enjoyable.' My knees quaked. I couldn't escape this, couldn't outrun this. Couldn't even try to run, since he blocked the way to the door. 'Do it outside,' I whispered, my voice trembling. 'Not... here.' Not where my family would have to wash away my blood and gore. If he even let them live. The faerie huffed a vicious laugh. 'Willing to accept your fate so easily?' When I just stared at him, he said, 'For having the nerve to request where I slaughter you, I'll let you in on a secret, human. Prythian must claim your life in some way, for the life you took from it. So as a representative of the immortal realm, I can either gut you like swine, or... you can cross the wall and live out the remainder of your days in Prythian.' I blinked. 'What?' He said slowly, as if I were indeed as stupid as a swine, 'You can either die tonight or offer your life to Prythian by living in it forever, forsaking the human realm.”

“The estate sprawled across a rolling green land. I'd never seen anything like it; even out former manor couldn't compare. It was veiled in roses and ivy, with patios and balconies and staircases sprouting from it's alabaster sides. The grounds were encased by woods, but stretched so far that I could barely see the distant line of the forest. So much colour, so much sunlight and movement and texture... I could hardly drink it in fast enough. To paint it would be useless, would never do it justice. My awe might have subdued my fear had the place not been so wholly empty and silent. Even the garden through which we walked, following a gravel path to the main doors of the house, seemed hushed and sleepingg. Above the array of amethyst irises and pale snowdrops and butter-yellow daffodils swaying in the balmy breeze, the faint stench of metal tickled my nose. Of course it would be magic, because it was spring here. What wretched power did they possess to make their lands so different from ours, to control the seasons and weather as if they owned them?”

“Inside, it was even more opulent. Black-and-white checkered marble shone at my feet, flowing to countless doors and a sweeping staircase. A long hall stretched ahead to the giant glass doors at the other end of the house, and through them I glimpsed a second garden, grander than the one out front. No sign of a dungeon- no shouts or pleas rising up from hidden chambers below. No, just the low growl from a nearby room, so deep that it rattled the vases overflowing with fat clusters of hydrangeas atop the scattered hall tables.”

“The beast plopped into the chair, the wood groaning, and, in a flash of white light, turned into a golden-haired man. I stifled a cry and pushed myself against the panelled wall beside the door, feeling for the molding of the threshold, trying to gauge the distance between me and escape. The beast was not a man, not a lesser faerie. He was one of the High Fae, one of their ruling nobility: beautiful, lethal, and merciless. He was young- or at least what I could see of his face seemed young. His nose, cheeks, and brows were covered by an exquisite golden mask embedded with emeralds shaped like whorls of leaves. Some absurd High Fae fashion, no doubt. It left only his eyes- looking the same as they had in beast form, strong jaw, and mouth for me to see, and the latter tightened into a thin line. 'You should eat something,' he said. Unlike the elegance of his mask, the dark green tunic he wore was rather plain, accented only with a leather baldric across his broad chest. It was more for fighting than style, even though he bore no weapons I could detect. Not just one of the High Fae, but... a warrior, too.”

“The stranger whirled with fluid grace. His mask was bronze and fashioned after a fox's features, concealing all but the lower half of his face- along with most of what looked like a wicked, slashing scar from his brow down to his jaw. It didn't hide the eye that was missing- or the carved golden orb that had replaced it and moved as though he could use it. It fixed on me. Even from across the room, I could see his remaining russet eye widen. He sniffed once, his lips curling a bit to reveal straight white teeth, and then he turned to the other faerie. 'You're joking,' he said quietly. 'That scrawny thing brought down Andras with a single ash arrow?' Bastard- an absolute bastard. A pity I didn't have the arrow now- or I could shoot him instead.”

“He stole you away into the night, claiming some nonsense about the Treaty. And then everything went on as if it had never happened. It wasn’t right. None of it was right." "You went after me," I said. "You went after me -- to Prythian." "I got to the wall. I couldn't find a way through." I raised a shaking hand to my throat. "You trekked two days there and two days back-- through the winter woods?" She shrugged, looking at the sliver she'd pried from the table. "I hired that mercenary from town to bring me a week after you were taken. With the money from your pelt. She was the only one who seemed like she would believe me." "You did that -- for me?" Nesta's eyes -- my eyes, our mother's eyes -- met mine. "It wasn't right," she said again.”

“They watched me, too closely to be casual. Tamlin straightened a bit and said, 'You look... better than before.' Was that a compliment? I could have sworn Lucien gave Tamlin an encouraging nod. 'And your hair is... clean.' Perhaps it was my raging hunger making me hallucinate the piss-poor attempt at flattery.”

“Why?' I asked. 'Why be so generous?' Lucien gave me a look that suggested he had no idea, either, given that I'd murdered their companion, but Tamlin stared at me for a long moment. 'I kill too often as it is,' Tamlin said finally, shrugging his broad shoulders. 'And you're insignificant enough to not ruffle this estate. Unless you decide to start killing us.”

“Tamlin broke the silence. 'Feyre likes to hunt.' 'I don't like to hunt.' I should have probably used a more polite tone, but I went on. 'I hunted out of necessity. And how did you know that?' Tamlin's stare was bald, assessing. 'Why else were you in the woods that day? You had a bow and arrows in your... house.' I wondered whether he'd almost said hovel. 'When I saw your father's hands, I knew he wasn't the one using them.' He gestured to my scarred, calloused hands. 'You told him about the rations and money from pelts. Faeries might be many things, but we're not stupid. Unless your ridiculous legends claim that about us, too.' Ridiculous, insignificant. I stared at the crumbs of bread and swirls of remaining sauce on my golden plate. Had I been home, I would have licked my plate clean, desperate for any extra bit of nourishment. And the plates... I could have bought a team of horses, a plow, and a field for just one of them. Disgusting.”

“My blood froze as a creeping, leeching cold lurched by. I couldn't see anything, just a vague shimmering in the corner of my vision, but my horse stiffened beneath me. I willed my face in to blackness. Even the balmy spring woods seemed to recoil, to wither and freeze. The cold thing whispered past, circling. I could see nothing, but I could feel it. And in the back of my mind, an ancient hollow voice whispered: I will grind your bones between my claws; I will drink your marrow; I will feast on your flesh. I am what you fear; I am what you dread... Look at me. Look at me. I tried to swallow, but my throat had closed up. I kept my eyes on the trees, on the canopy, on anything but the cold mass circling us again and again. Look at me. I wanted to look- I needed to see what it was. Look at me. I stared at the coarse trunk of a distant elm, thinking of pleasant things. Like hot bread and full bellies- I will fill my belly with you. I will devour you. Look at me. A starry, unclouded night sky, peaceful and glittering and endless Summer sunrise. A refreshing bath in a forest pool. Meetings with Issac, losing myself for an hour or two in his body, in our shared breaths. It was all around us, so cold that my teeth chattered. Look at me. I stared and stared at the ever-nearing tree trunk, not daring to blink. My eyes strained, filling with tears, and I let them fall, refusing to acknowledge the thing that lurked around us. Look at me. And just as I thought I would give in, when my eyes so much from not looking, the cold disappeared in to the brush, leaving a trail of still, recoiling plants behind. Only after Lucien exhaled and our horses shook their heads did I dare sag in my seat. Even the crocuses seemed to straighten. 'What was that?' I asked, brushing the tears from my face. Lucien's face was still pale. 'You don't want to know.' 'Please. Was it that... Suriel you mentioned?' Lucien's russet eye was dark as he answered hoarsely. 'No. It was a creature that should not be in these lands. We call it the Bogge. You can not hunt it, and you cannot kill it. Even with your beloved ash arrows.' 'Why can't I look at it?' 'Because when you look at it- when you acknowledge it- that's when it becomes real. That's when it can kill you.”

“I can't just give up on it, on them. No matter what you say.' Even if I had been a fool- a stupid, human fool- to believe my father would ever actually come for me. Tamlin eyed me sidelong. 'You're not giving up on them.' 'Living in luxury, stuffing myself with food? How is that not-' 'They are cared for- they are fed and comfortable.' Fed and comfortable. If he couldn't lie, if it was true, then.. then it was beyond anything I'd ever dared hope for. Then... my vow to my mother was fulfilled. It stunned me enough that I didn't say anything for a moment as we walked. My life was now owned by the Treaty, but... perhaps I'd been freed in another sort of way.”

“The golden-haired High Fae's mask gleamed with the last rays of the afternoon sunshine. 'Before you ask again: the food is safe for you to eat.' He pointed to the chair at the other end of the table. No sign of his claws. When I didn't move, he sighed sharply. 'What do you want, then?' I said nothing. To eat, flee, save my family. Lucien drawled from his seat along the length of the table. 'I told you so, Tamlin.' He flicked a glance toward his friend. 'Your skills with females have definitely become rusty in recent decades.”

“What do you plan to do with me now that I'm here?' Tamlin's eyes didn't leave my face. 'Nothing. Do whatever you want.' 'So, I'm not here to be your slave?' I dared ask. Lucien choked on his wine. But Tamlin didn't smile. 'I don't keep slaves.' I ignored the release of tightness in my chest at that. 'But what am I to do with my life here?' I pressed. 'Do you- do you wish me to earn my keep? To work?' a stupid question, if he hadn't considered it, but... but I had to know. Tamlin stiffened. 'What you do with your life isn't my problem.' Lucien pointedly cleared his throat, and Tamlin flashed him a glare. After an exchanged look I couldn't read, Tamlin sighed and said. 'Don't you have any... interests?' 'No.' Not entirely true, but I wasn't about to explain the painting to him. Not when he was apparently having a great deal of trouble just talking to me civilly. Lucien muttered. 'So typically human.' Tamlin's mouth quirked to the side. 'Do whatever you want with your time. Just stay out of trouble.”

“It's been a few decades since I last saw one of you,' Lucien drawled, 'but you humans never change, so I don't think I'm wrong in asking why you find our company to be so unpleasant, when surely the men back home aren't much to look at.' At the other end of the table, Tamlin gave his emissary a long, warning look. Lucien ignored it. 'You're High Fae,' I said tightly. 'I'd ask why you'd even bother inviting me here at all- or dining with me.' Fool- I should have been killed ten times over already. Lucien said. 'True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this'- he waved a hang at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face- 'surely we're not so miserable to look at.' Typical faerie vanity and arrogance. That, at least, the legends have been right about. I tucked the knowledge away. 'Unless you have someone back home. Unless there's a line of suitors out the door of your hovel that makes us seem like worms in comparison.”

“Alis looked me over from head to toe. 'You think a bit of rope snapping in my face will keep me from breaking your bones?' My blood went cold. 'You think that will do anything against one of us?' I might have kept apologising were it not for the sneer she gave me. I crossed my arms. 'It was a warning bell to give me time to run. Not a trap.' She seemed poised to spit on me, but then her sharp brown eyes narrowed. 'You can outrun us, either, girl.' 'I know,' I said, my heart calming at last. 'But at least I wouldn't face my death unaware.' Alis barked out a laugh. 'My master gave his word that you could live here- live, not die. We will obey.”