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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 stalked into the moonlit garden and lost myself in its labyrinth of hedges and flower beds. I didn't care where I was going. After a while, I paused in the rose garden. The moonlight stained the red petals a deep purple and cast a silvery sheen on the white blooms. 'My father had this garden planted for my mother,' Tamlin said from behind me. I didn't bother to face him. I dug my nails into my palms as he stopped by my side. 'It was a mating present.' I stared the flowers without seeing anything. The flowers I'd painted on the table at home were probably crumbling or gone by now. Nesta might have even scraped them off. My nails pricked the skin of my palms. Tamlin providing for them or no, glamouring their memories or no, I'd been... erased from their lives. Forgotten. I'd let him erase me. He'd offered me paints and the space and time to practice; he'd shown me pools of starlight; he'd saved my life like some kind of feral knight in a legend, and I'd gulped it down like faerie wine.”

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“The liquid was delightfully warm, and I strode in until it was deep enough to swim out a few strokes and casually tread in place. Not water, but something smoother, thicker. Not oil, but something purer, thinner. Like being wrapped in warm silk. I was so busy savouring the tug of my fingers through the silvery substance that I didn't notice him until he was treading beside me.”

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“I crept through the trees and brush for no more than an hour before I felt a presence behind me- coming ever closer, sending the animals running for cover. I smiled to myself, and twenty minutes later, I settled in the crook of a towering elm and waited. Brush rustled- hardly more than a breeze's passing, but I knew what to expect, knew the signs. A snap and a roar of fury echoed across the lands, scattering the birds. When I climbed out of the tree and walked in to the little clearing, I merely crossed my arms and looked up at the High Lord, dangling by his legs from the snare I'd laid. Even upside down, he smiled lazily at me as I approached. 'Cruel human.' He chuckled, and I came close enough to dare stroke a finger along the silken golden hair dangling just above my face, admiring the many colours within it- the hues of yellow and brown and wheat. My heart thundered, and I knew he could probably hear it. But he leaned his head toward me, a silent invitation, and I ran my fingers through his hair- gently, carefully. He purred, the sound rumbling through my fingers, arms, legs, and core. I wondered how that sound would feel if he were fully pressed up against me, skin-to-skin. I stepped back. He curled upward in a smooth, powerful motion and swiped with a single claw at the creeping vine I'd use for rope. I took a breath to shout, but he flipped as he fell, landing smoothly on his feet. It would be impossible for me to ever forget what he was, and what he was capable of. He took a step closer to me, the laughter still dancing on his face.”

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“I was about to pass him when he grabbed me, so fast that I didn't see anything until he had me pinned against the wall. The cookie dropped from my hand as he grasped my wrists. 'I smelled you,' he breathed, his painted chest rising and falling so close to mine. 'I searched for you, and you weren't there.' He reeked of magic. When I looked into his eyes, remnants of power flickered there. No kindness, none of the wry humour and gentle reprimands. The Tamlin I knew was gone. 'Let go,' I said as evenly as I could, but his claws punched out, imbedding in the wood above my hands. Still riding the magic, he was half-wild. 'You drove me mad,' he growled, and the sound trembled down my neck, along my breasts until they ached. 'I searched for you, and you weren't there. When I didn't find you,' he said, bring his face closer to mine, until we shared breath, 'it made me pick another.' I couldn't escape. I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to. 'She asked me not to be gentle with her, either,' he snarled, his teeth bright in the moonlight. He brought his lips to my ear. 'I would have been gentle with you, though.' I shuddered as I closed my eyes. Every inch of my body went taut as his words echoed through me. 'I would have had you moaning my name throughout it all. And I would have taken a very, very long time, Feyre.' He said my name like a caress, and his hot breath tickled my ear. My back arched slightly. He ripped his claws free from the wall, and my knees buckled as he let go. I grasped the wall to keep from sinking to the floor, to keep from grabbing him- to strike or caress, I didn't know. I opened my eyes. He still smiled- smiled like an animal.”

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“The green of his eyes matched the grass between my fingers, and the amber flecks were like the shafts of sunlight that streamed through the trees. Even his mask, odd and foreign, seemed to fit into the glen- as if this place had been fashioned for him alone. I could picture him here in his beast form, curled up in the grass, dozing.”

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“You can't write, yet you learned to hunt, to survive. How?' I paused with my foot on the threshold. 'That's what happens when you're responsible for lives other than your own, isn't it? You do what you have to do.' He was still sitting on the table, still straddling the inner line between the here and now and wherever he'd had to go in his mind to endure the fight with the Bogge. I met his feral and glowing stare. 'You aren't what I expected- for a human,' he said. I didn't reply. And he didn't say good-bye as I walked out.”

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“I'm curious,' he said casually. The amber in his green eyes was glowing. Perhaps not all traces of that beast-warrior were gone. 'Are you ever going to use that knife you stole from my table?' I stiffened. 'How did you know?' Beneath the mask, I could have sworn his brows were raised. 'I was trained to notice those things. But I could smell the fear on you, more than anything.' I grumbled. 'I thought no one noticed.' He gave me a crooked smile, more genuine than all the faked smiles and flattery he'd given me before. 'Regardless of the Treaty, if you were to stand a chance at escaping my kind, you'll need to think more creatively than stealing dinner knives. But with your affinity for eavesdropping, maybe you'll someday learn something valuable.”

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“A breeze announced his arrival- and I turned from the table toward the long hall, to the open glass doors to the garden. I'd forgotten how huge he was in this form- forgotten the curled horns and lupine face, the bearlike body that moved with feline fluidity. His green eyes glowed in the darkness, fixing on me, and as the doors snicked shut behind him, the clicking of claws on marble filled the hall. I stood still- not daring to flinch, to move a muscle. He limped slightly. And in the moonlight, dark, shining stains were left in his wake. He continued toward me, stealing the air from the entire hell. He was so big that the space felt cramped, like a cage. The scrape of claw, a huff of uneven breathing, the dripping of blood. Between one step and the next, he changed forms, and I squeezed my eyes shut at the blinding flash. When at last my eyes adjusted to the returning darkness, he was standing in front of me. Standing, but- not quite there. No sign of the baldric, or his knives. His clothes were in shreds- long, vicious slashes that made me wonder how he wasn't gutted and dead. BUt the muscled skin peered out beneath his shirt was smooth, unharmed.”

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“He glanced down at the map on the table, and his voice was void of anything- any emotion, any anger or amusement- as he said, 'What is that?' I snatched up my map. 'I thought I should learn my surroundings.' Drip, drip, drip. I opened my mouth to point out his hand again, but he said, 'You can't write, can you.' I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say. Ignorant, insignificant human. 'No wonder you become so adept at other things.' I supposed he was so far gone in thinking about his encounter with the Bogge that he hadn't realised the compliment he'd given me. If it was a compliment.”

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“Another splatter of blood on the marble. 'Where can we clean up your hand?' He lifted his head to look at me again. Still and silent and weary. Then he said, 'There's a small infirmary.' I wanted to tell myself that it was probably the most useful thing I'd learned all night. But as I followed him there, avoiding the blood he trailed, I thought of what Lucien had told me about his isolation, that burden, thought of what Tamlin had mentioned about how these estates should not have been his, and felt... sorry for him.”

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“Tamlin slumped against the edge of the table, gripping his injured hand at the wrist as he watched me sort through the supplies in the cabinets and drawers. When I'd gathered what I'd needed, I tried not to balk at the thought of touching him, but... I didn't let myself give in to my dread as I took his hand, the heat of his skin like an inferno against my cool fingers. I cleaned off his bloody, dirty hand, bracing for the first flash of those claws. But his claws remained retracted, and he kept silent as I bound and wrapped his hand- surprisingly enough, there were no more than a few vicious cuts, none of them requiring stitching. I secured the bandage in place and stepped away, bringing the bowl of bloody water to the deep sink in the back of the room. His eyes were a brand upon me as I finished cleaning, and the room became too small, too hot. He'd killed the Bogge and walked away relatively unscathed. If Tamlin was that powerful, then the High Lords of Prythian must be near-gods. Every mortal instinct in my body bleated in panic at the thought.”

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“I could help you write to them, if that's why you're in here.' I jerked back in my seat, almost knocking over the chair, and whirled to find Tamlin right behind me, a stack of books in his arms. I pushed back against the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, the panic at the information he might be guessing I'd been trying to send. 'Help? You mean a faerie is passing up the opportunity to mock an ignorant human?' He set the books down on the table, his jaw tight. I couldn't read the titles glinting on the leather spines. 'Why should I mock you for a shortcoming that isn't your fault? Let me help you. I owe you for the hand.' Shortcoming. It was a shortcoming. Yet it was one thing to bandage his hand, to talk to him as if he wasn't a predator build to kill and destroy, but to reveal how little I truly knew, to let him see that part of me that was still a child, unfinished and raw... His face was unreadable. Though there had been no pity in his voice. I straightened. 'I'm fine.' 'You think I've got nothing better to do with my time than come up with elaborate ways to humiliate you?”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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“So is this what you do with your lives? Spare humans from the Treaty and have fine meals?' I gave a pointed glance toward Tamlin's baldric, the warrior's clothes, Lucien's sword. Lucien smirked. 'We also dance with the spirits under the full moon and snatch human babes from their cradles to replace with changelings-”

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“Please,' I breathed. 'My father-' 'Your father?' He lifted his stare to the gates behind me, and his growl rumbled through me as he bared his teeth. 'Why don't you look again?' He released me. I staggered back a step, whirling, sucking in a breath to tell my father to run, but- But he wasn't there. Only a pale bow and a quiver of pale arrows remained, propped up against the gates. Mountain ash. They hadn't been there moments before, hadn't- They rippled, as if they were nothing but water- and then the bow and quiver became a large pack, laden with supplies. Another ripple- and there were my sisters, huddled together, weeping. My knees buckled. 'What is...' I didn't finish the question. My father now stood there, still hunched and beckoning. A flawless rendering. 'Weren't you warned to keep your wits about you?' Tamlin snapped. 'That your human senses would betray you?' He stepped beyond me and let out a snarl so vicious that whatever the thing was by the gates shimmered with light and darted out as fast as lightning streaking through the dark. 'Fool,' he said to me, turning. 'If you're ever going to run away, at least do it in the daytime.' He stared me down, and the fangs slowly retracted. The claws remained. 'There are worse things than the Bogge prowling these woods at night. That thing at the gates isn't one of them- and it would have taken a good while devouring you.”

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“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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“What?” Lucien laughed. “Yes—all those female faeries around you were females for Tamlin to pick. It’s an honor to be chosen, but it’s his instincts that select her.” “But you were there—and other male faeries.” My face burned so hot that I began sweating. That was why those three horrible faeries had been there—and they’d thought that just by my presence, I was happy to comply with their plans. “Ah.” Lucien chuckled. “Well, Tam’s not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we’re free to mingle. Though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.” He shrugged off that invisible hand a second time, and his eyes fell upon the hills. “You’re lucky I found you when I did, though,” he said. “Because he would have smelled you, and claimed you, but it wouldn’t have been Tamlin who brought you into that cave.” His eyes met mine, and a chill went over me. “And I don’t think you would have liked it. Tonight is not for lovemaking.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Tam would gut me if he caught you drinking that.” “Always looking after your best interests,” I said, and pointedly chugged the contents of the glass. It was like a million fireworks exploding inside me, filling my veins with starlight. I laughed aloud, and Lucien groaned. “Human fool,” he hissed. But his glamour had been ripped away. His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge. That was what I would capture next. “I’m going to paint you,” I said, and giggled—actually giggled—as the words popped out. “Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered, and I laughed again.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“I smelled you,” he breathed, his painted chest rising and falling so close to mine. “I searched for you, and you weren’t there.” ............. “I would have been gentle with you, though.” I shuddered as I closed my eyes. Every inch of my body went taut as his words echoed through me. “I would have had you moaning my name throughout it all. And I would have taken a very, very long time, Feyre.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“...from the opposite side of the meadow, dozens of shimmering shapes floated out across the grass, little more than mirages of moonlight. That was when the singing began. It was a collective voice, but in it existed both male and female- two sides of the same coin, singing to each other in a call and response. I raised a hand to my throat as their music rose and they danced. Ghostly and ethereal, they waltzed across the field, no more than slender slants of moonlight. 'What are they?' ''Will-o'-the-wisps- spirits of air and light,' he said softly. 'Come to celebrate the solstice.' 'They're beautiful.' His lips grazed my neck as he murmured against my skin. 'Dance with me, Feyre.' 'Really?' I turned and found my face mere inches from him. He cracked a lazy smile. 'Really.' As though I were nothing but air myself, he pulled me into a sweeping dance.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Say that you don’t love him!” Amarantha shrieked, and the blood on my hands became the blood of that rabbit—became the blood of what I had lost. But I wouldn’t say it. Because loving Tamlin was the only thing I had left, the only thing I couldn’t sacrifice. A path cleared through my red-and-black vision. I found Tamlin’s eyes—wide as he crawled toward Amarantha, watching me die, and unable to save me while his wound slowly healed, while she still gripped his power. Amarantha had never intended for me to live, never intended to let him go. “Amarantha, stop this,” Tamlin begged at her feet as he clutched the gaping wound in his chest. “Stop. I’m sorry—I’m sorry for what I said about Clythia all those years ago. Please.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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