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A Court of Wings and Ruin

Book by Sarah J. Maas · 50 quotes · A Court Of Wings And Ruin, Sarah J Maas, Feyre Archeron

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A Court of Wings and Ruin Quotes

“Azriel is the only polite one.' A few cries of outrage from Mor and Cassian, but a ghost of a smile danced on the shadowsinger's mouth as he dipped his head and hauled a platter of roast beets sprinkled with goat cheese toward himself. 'Don't even try to pretend that it's not true.' 'Of course it's true,' Mor said with a loud sigh, 'but you needn't make us sound like heathens.' 'I would have thought you'd find that term to be a compliment, Mor,' Rhys said mildly.”

“Why won't you train with Cassian?' Nesta's spine locked up. 'Why is it only Cassian that I may train with? Why not the other one?' 'Azriel?' 'Him, or the blond one who won't shut up.' 'If you're referring to Mor-' 'And why must I train at all? I am no warrior, nor do I desire to be.' 'It could make you strong-' 'There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday.' 'You said you wanted our enemies dead. Why not kill them yourself?' She inspected her nails. 'Why bother when someone else can do it for me?”

“To escape the Prison, I made myself mortal. Immortal as you are, but... mortal compared to- to what I was. And what I was... I did not feel the way you do. The way I do now. Some things- loyalty and wrath and curiosity- but not the full spectrum.' Again, that faraway look. 'I was perfect, according to some. I did not regret, did not mourn- and pain... I did not experience it. And yet... yet I wound up here, because I was not quite like the others. Even as- as what I was, I was different. Too curious. Too questioning. The day the rip appeared in the sky... it was curiosity that drove me. My brothers and sisters fled. Upon the orders of our ruler, we had just laid waste to twin cities, smote them wholly into rubble on the plain, and yet they fled from that rip in the world. But I wanted to look. I wanted. I was not built or bred to feel such selfish things as want. I'd seen what happened to those of my kind who strayed, who learned to place their needs first. Who developed... feeling. But I went through the tear in the sky. And here I am.' 'And you gave all that up to get out of the Prison?' Mor asked softly. 'I yielded my grace- my perfect immortality. I knew that once I did... I would feel pain. And regret. I would want, and I would burn with it. I would... fall. But I was- the time locked away down there... I didn't care. I had not felt the wind on my face, had not smelled the rain... I did not even remember what they felt like. I did not remember sunlight.' It was to Azriel that her attention drifted- the shadowsinger's darkness pulled away to reveal eyes full of understanding. Locked away. 'So I bound myself into this body. I shoved my burning grace deep into me. I gave up everything I was. The cell door just... unlocked. And so I walked out.”

“What did you see,' Azriel said, and I tried not to flinch as I found him at my other side, not having seen him move. Again. Elain paused halfway up the stairs. Slowly, she turned to look back at him. 'I saw young hands wither with age. I saw a box of black stone. I saw a feather of fire land on snow and melt it.' My stomach dropped to the floor. One glance at Nesta confirmed that she felt it, too. Saw it. Mad. Elain might very well have gone mad- 'It was angry,' Elain said quietly. 'It was so, so angry that something was taken. So it took something from them as punishment.”

“Azriel sketched a bow- while Cassian stalked for the dining table, reached right over Nesta's shoulder, and grabbed a muffin from its little basket. 'Morning, Nesta,' he said around a mouth of blueberry-lemon. 'Elain.' Nesta's nostrils flared, but Elain peered up at Cassian, blinking twice. 'He snapped your wings, broke your bones.' I tried to shut out the sound of Cassian's scream- the memory of the spraying blood. Nesta stared at her plate. Elain, at least, was out of her room, but... 'It's take more than that to kill me,' Cassian said with a smirk that didn't meet his eyes. Elain only said to Cassian, 'No, it will not.”

“I was in love with Feyre,' Rhys said quietly, 'long before she ever returned the feeling.' Lucien crossed his arms. 'How fortunate that you got what you wanted in the end.' I closed my eyes for a heartbeat. Cassian and Azriel stilled, waiting for the order. 'I will only say this once,' warned the High Lord of the Night Court. Even Lucien flinched. 'I suspected Feyre was my mate before I ever knew she was involved with Tamlin. And when I learned of it... If it made her happy, I was willing to step back.' 'You came to our house and stole her away on her wedding day.' 'I was going to call the wedding off,' I cut in, taking a step toward Lucien. 'You knew it.' Rhysand went on before Lucien could snap a reply. 'I was willing to lose my mate to another male. I as willing to let them marry, if it brought her joy. But what I was not willing to do was let her suffer. To let her fade away into a shadow. And the moment that piece of shit blew apart his study, the moment he locked her in that house...' His wings ripped from him, and Lucien started. Rhys bared his teeth. My limbs turned light, trembling at the dark power curling in the corners of the room. Not fear- never fear of him. But at the shattered control as Rhys snarled at Lucien. 'My mate may one day find it in herself to forgive him. Forgive you. But I will never forget how it felt to sense her terror in those moments.' My cheeks heated, especially as Cassian and Azriel stalked closer, those hazel eyes now filled with a mix of sympathy and wrath. I had never talked about it to them- what had gone on that day Tamlin had destroyed his study, or the day he'd sealed me inside the manor. I'd never asked Rhys if he'd informed them. From the fury rippling from Cassian, the cold rage seeping from Azriel... I didn't think so. Lucien, to his credit, didn't back away a step. From Rhys, or me, or the Illyrians. The Clever Fox Stares Down Winged Death. The painting flashed in my mind. 'So, again, I will say this only once,' Rhys went on, his expression smoothing into lethal calm, dragging me from the colours and light and shadows gathering in my mind. 'Feyre did not dishonour or betray Tamlin. I revealed the mating bond months later- and she gave me hell for it, don't worry. But now that you've found your mate in a similar situation, perhaps you will try to understand how it felt. And if you can't be bothered, then I hope you're wise enough to keep your mouth shut, because the next time you look at my mate with that disdain and disgust, I won't bother to explain it again, and I will rip out your fucking throat.' Rhys said is so mildly that the threat took a second to register. To settle in me like a stone plunked into a pool. Lucien only shifted on his feet. Wary. Considering. I counted the heartbeats, debating how much I'd interfere if he said something truly stupid, when he at last murmured, 'There is a longer story to be told, it seems.”

“It's a good thing we're not the same size- or else I might be tempted to steal that dress.' 'Likely right off her,' Cassian muttered. Mor's answering smirk wasn't reassuring. But Nesta's face remained blank. Cold. She looked Mor up and down- noting the dress that exposed much of her midriff, back, and chest, then the flowing skirts with sheer panels that revealed glimpses of her legs. Scandalous, by human fashions. 'Fortunately for you,' Nesta said flatly, 'I don't return the sentiment.' Azriel coughed into his wine. But Nesta only walked to the table and claimed a seat. Mor blinked, but confided to me with a wince, 'I think we're going to need a lot more wine.”

“Mor shook her head, still not looking anywhere but at Rhys. 'If Amarantha were alive...' The word slithered through the room, darkening the corners. 'If she were alive and I offered to work with her- even if it was to save us all- how would you feel?' Never- they had never come this close to discussing what had happened to him. I approached Rhys's side, brushing my fingers against his. His own curled around mine. 'If Amarantha offered us a slim shot at survival,' Rhys said, his gaze unflinching, 'then I would not give a shit that she made me fuck her for all those years.' Cassian flinched. The entire room flinched. 'If Amarantha showed up at that door right now,' Rhys snarled, pointing toward the foyer entry, 'and said she could buy us a chance at defeating Hybern, at keeping all f you alive, I would thank the fucking Cauldron.' Mor shok her head, tears slipping free again. 'You don't mean that.' 'I do.' Rhys. But the bond, the bridge between us... it was a howling void. A raging, dark tempest. Too far- this was pushing them both too far. I tried to catch Cassian's gaze, but he was monitoring them closely, his golden-brown skin unnaturally pale. Azriel's shadows gathered close, half veiling him from view. And Amren- Amren stepped between Rhys and Mor. They both towered over her. 'I kept this unit from breaking for forty-nine years,' Amren said, eyes flaring bright as lightning. 'I am not going to let you rip it to shreds now.' She faced Mor. 'Working with Keir and Eris is not forgiving them. and when this war is over, I will hunt them down and butcher them with you, if that is what you wish.”

“We- Rhys, Cass, and I- will occasionally remind each other that what we think to be our greatest weakness can sometimes be our biggest strength. And that the most unlikely person can alter the course of history.' ... 'So we'll train, Feyre, until the last possible day. Because we never know if just one extra hour will make the difference.”

“Stay, I begged. Stay. Light glowed beyond my shut eyelids. Stay. And in that silence... I began to tell him. About that first night I'd seen him. When I'd heard that voice beckoning me to the hills. When I couldn't resist its summons, and now... now I wondered if I had heard him calling for me on Calanmai. If it had been his voice that brought me there that night. I told him how I had fallen in love with him- every glance and passed note and croak of laughter he coaxed from me. I told him of everything we'd done, and what it had meant to me, and all that I still wanted to do. All the life still left before us. And in return... a thud sounded. I opened my eyes. Another thud. And this his chest rose, lifting my head with it. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe- A hand brushed my back. Then Rhys groaned. 'If we're all here, either things went very, very wrong or very right.' Cassian's broken laugh cracked out of him. I couldn't lift my head, couldn't do anything but hold him, savouring every heartbeat and breath and the rumble of his voice as Rhys rasped, 'You lot will be pleased to know... My power remains my own. No thieving here.' 'You do know how to make an entrance,' Helion drawled. 'Or should I say exit?' 'You're horrible,' Viviane snapped. 'That's not even remotely funny-' I didn't hear what else they said. Rhys sat up, lifting me off him. He brushed away the hair clinging to my damp cheeks. 'Stay with the High Lord,' he murmured. I hadn't believed it- until I looked into that face. Those star-flecked eyes. Hadn't let myself believe it wasn't anything but some delusion- 'It's real,' he said, kissing my brow.”

“What is that,' Devlon asked. Nesta merely stared at him, one hand clamping the edges of her grey cloak together at her chest. One of the other camp lords made some sign against evil. 'That,' Cassian said too quietly, 'is none of your concern.' 'Is she a witch?' I opened my mouth, but Nesta said flatly, 'Yes.' And I watched as nine full-grown, weathered Illyrian warlords flinched. 'She may act like one sometimes,' Cassian clarified, 'but no- she's High Fae.”

“He paused a foot away, and frowned. 'Dresses aren't good for flying, ladies.' Nesta didn't reply. He lifted a brow. 'No barking and biting today?' But Nesta didn't rise to meet him, her face still drained and sallow. 'I've never worn pants,' was all she said. I could have sworn concern flashed across Cassian's features. But he brushed it aside and drawled. 'I have no doubt you'd start a riot if you did.”

“I whispered to the lurking dark behind me, 'What is your price?' ... Company. Send me company. I opened my mouth, but them said, 'To- eat?' A laugh that made my skin crawl. To tell me of life. ... 'It's a bargain,' I breathed. The skin along my left forearm tingled. The thing behind me... I could have sworn I felt it smile.”

“Our dispersing party watched as he braced my waist in his broad hands and easily hefted me off the horse, none more closely than Ianthe. I only patted Lucien on the shoulder in thanks. Ever the courtier, he bowed back. It was hard, sometimes, to remember to hate him. To remember the game I was already playing.”

“I see you brought home a new pet,' she said, nose crinkling with distaste. Something like fear had entered Lucien's eyes, as if he, too, beheld the monster that lurked beneath that beautiful face. Indeed, it seemed he had heard of her already. Before I could introduce him, Lucien bowed at the waist. Deeply. Cassian let out an amused grunt, and I shot him a warning glare. Amren smiled slightly. 'Already trained, I see.' Lucien slowly straightened, as if he were standing before the open maw of some great plains-cat he did not wish to startle with sudden movements. 'Amren, this is Lucien... Vanserra.' Lucien stiffened. 'I don't use my family's name.' He clarified to Amren with another incline of his head. 'Lucien will do.' I suspected he'd ceased using that name the moment his lover's heart had stopped beating.”

“Alis had found me a luxurious white velvet cloak for the brisk ride into the hills, and Tamlin had lifted me onto a moon-pale mare with wildflowers woven into her silver mane. If I had wanted to paint a picture of serene purity, it would have been the image I cast that morning, my hair braided above my head, a crown of white hawthorn blossoms upon it. I'd dabbed rouge onto my cheeks and lips- a slight hint of colour. Like the first blush of spring across a winter landscape.”

“How bad was it?' I asked quietly. 'You saw your room. He trashed it, the study, his bedroom. He- he killed the sentries who'd been on guard. After he got the last bit of information from them. He executed them in front of everyone in the manor.' My blood chilled. 'You didn't stop him.' 'I tried. I begged him for mercy. He didn't listen. He couldn't listen.' 'The sentries didn't try to stop him, either?' 'They didn't dare, Feyre, he's a High Lord. He's a different breed.”

“It was as if the base of the mountain had been hollowed out by some massive digging beast, leaving a pit descending into the dark heart of the world. Around that gaping hole, carved into the mountain itself, spiralled level after level of shelves and books and reading areas, leading into the inky black. From what I could see of the various levels as I drifted toward the carved stone railing overlooking the drop, the stacks shot far into the mountain itself, like the spokes of a mighty wheel. And through it all, fluttering like moth's wings, the rustle of paper on parchment. Silent, and yet alive. Awake and humming and restless, some many-limbed beast at constant work. I peered upward, finding more levels rising toward the House above. And lurking far below... Darkness.”

“We passed stacks of books and parchments, the shelves either built into the stone itself or made of dark, solid wood. Hallways lined with both vanished into the mountain itself, and every few minutes, a little reading area popped up, full of tidy tables, low-burning glass lamps, and deep-cushioned chairs and couches. Ancient woven rugs adorned the floors beneath them, usually set before fireplaces that had been carved into the rock and kept well away from any shelves, their grates fine-meshed enough to retain any wandering embers. Cosy, despite the size of the space; warm, despite the unknown terror lurking below.”

“Her eyes were the brown of a fawn's coat. And he could have sworn something sparked in them as she met his gaze. 'Who are you?' He knew without demanding clarification that she was aware of what he was to her. 'I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.' And a whole lot of nothing. ... For a long moment, Elain's face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. 'Lucien,' she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth. 'From my sister's stories. Her friend.' 'Yes.' But Elain blinked slowly. 'You were in Hybern.' 'Yes.' It was all he could say. 'You betrayed us.' He wished she'd shoved him out the window behind her. 'It- it was a mistake.' Her eyes were frank and cold. 'I was to be married in a few days.' He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who'd claimed her and shred him apart. The words were a rasp as he instead said, 'I know. I'm sorry.' She did not love him, want him, need him. Another male's bride. A mortal man's wife. Or she would have been. She looked away- toward the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth. 'When I sleep,' she murmured, 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. 'Can you hear mine?' He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, 'No, lady. I cannot.' Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. 'No one ever does. No one ever looked- not really.' A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. 'He did. He saw me. He will not now.”

“I stepped forward, and didn't give Lucien time to step back as I hugged him tightly. 'Thank you,' I said, trying not to think about all the steel on him- if he'd need to use it. 'It was time,' Lucien said quietly, giving me a squeeze. 'For me to do something.' I pulled away, surveying his scarred face. 'Thank you,' I said again. It was all I could think of to say. Rhys extended a hand to Lucien. Lucien studied it- then my mate's face. I could nearly see all the hateful words they'd spoken. Dangling between them, between that outstretched hand and Lucien's own. But Lucien took Rhys's hand. That silent offer of not only transportation. Before that dark wind swept in, Lucien looked back. Not to me, I realised- to someone behind me. Pale and thin, Elain stood atop the stairs. Their gazes locked and held. But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward. Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye- the longing and sadness. And when Lucien turned to signal to Rhys to go... He did not glance back at Elain. Did not see the half step she took toward the stairs- as if she'd speak to him. Stop him. Then Rhys was gone, and Lucien with him. When I turned to offer Elain breakfast, she'd already walked away.”

“He just wanted a walk- and a few books. It had been an age since he'd even had free time to read, let alone do so for pleasure. But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda. Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she'd been born into. She had teased him, taunted him- seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn't wanted anything but her. She'd seen him not as a High Lord's seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been... thrown at him. He glanced toward the tea service spread on a low-lying table nearby. 'I'm going to assume that one of those cups belongs to your sister.' Indeed, there was a discarded book in the viper's usual chair. Cauldron help the male who wound up shackled to her. 'Do you mind if I held myself to the other?' He tried to sound casual- comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication. Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste. The entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness. He didn't want to admit he liked it. Didn't want to admit he found the city beautiful. That the circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family... It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug. Forced his hands to be steady while he poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the chair opposite Nesta's vacated one. 'There's a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?' He didn't expect her to answer, and he gave himself all of one more minute before he'd rise from this chair and leave, hopefully avoiding Nesta's return. But sunlight on gold caught his eye- and Elain slowly turned from her vigil at the window. He had not seen her entire face since that day in Hybern. Then, it had been drawn and terrified, then utterly blank and numb, her hair plastered to her head, her lips blue with cold and shock. Looking at her now... She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate.”

“Lucien was having none of it. 'I knew. I knew you were lying the moment you unleashed that light in Hybern. My friend at the Dawn Court has the same power- her light is identical. And it does not do whatever horseshit you lied about it doing.' I shoved my pack off my bedroll. 'Then why not tell him? You were his faithful dog in every other sense.' His eye seemed to simmer. As if being in his own lands set that molten ore inside him rising to the surface, even with the damper on his power. 'Glad to see the mask is off, at least.' Indeed, I let him see it all- didn't alter or shape my face into anything but coldness. Lucien snorted. 'I didn't tell him for two reasons. One, it felt like kicking a male already down. I couldn't take that hope away from him.' I rolled my eyes. 'Two,' he snapped, 'I knew if I was correct and called you on it, you'd find a way to make sure I never saw her.' My nails dug into my palms hard enough to hurt, but I remained seated on the bedroll as I bared my teeth at him. 'And that's why you're here. Not because it's right and he's always been wrong, but just so you can get what you think you're owed.' 'She is my mate and in my enemy's hands-' 'I've made no secret from the start that Elain is safe and cared for.' 'And I'm supposed to believe you?' 'Yes,' I hissed. 'You are. Because if I believed for one moment that my sisters were in danger, no High Lord or king would have kept me from going to save them.”

“I don't think Nesta will ever forgive me for what happened in Hybern. To her- but mostly to Elain.' 'Your wings were shredded. You were barely alive.' For that was guilt- ravaging and poisonous- in each of Cassian's words. What the others had been fighting against in the loft. 'You were in no position to save anyone.' 'I made her a promise.' The wind ruffled Cassian's hair as he squinted at the sky. 'And when it mattered, I didn't keep it.' I still dreamed of him trying to crawl toward her, reaching for her even in the semi- unconscious state the pain and blood loss had thrown him into. As Rhysand had once done for me during those last moments with Amarantha. Perhaps only a few wing beats separated us from the broad landing veranda, but I asked, 'Why do you bother, Cassian?' His hazel eyes shuttered as we smoothly landed. And I thought he wouldn't answer, especially not when Rhys gracefully landed beside us and strode in ahead with a wink. But Cassian said quietly as we headed for the dining room, 'Because I can't stay away.”

“She was hungry. She was... doing something. Learning something. ... I put a hand on my chest, leaning against the wood panels of the stair wall. Rhys's hand covered my own a heartbeat later. 'That's what I felt,' he said, 'when I saw you smile that night we dined along the Sidra.' I leaned forward, resting my brow against his chest, right over his heart. 'She still has a long way to go.' 'We all do.' He stroked a hand over my back. I leaned into the touch, savouring his warmth and strength.”

“Lucien. It was Lucien. Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he'd run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little. But Elain only wrapped her arms around herself and remained at my side. 'Are you hurt?' he asked, coming toward us. Spying the blood speckling Elain's hands. He halted short as he noticed the King of Hybern's decapitated head on the other side of the clearing. Nesta was still showered with his blood. 'I'm fine,' Elain said quietly. And then asked, noticing the gore on him, the torn clothes and still-bloody weapons, 'Are you-' 'Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but... yes, I'm in one piece.' A faint smile bloomed on Elain's lips. But Lucien noticed that scorched patch of grass behind us and said, 'I heard- what happened. I'm sorry for your loss. All of you.' I just strode to him and threw my arms around his neck, even if it wasn't the embrace he was hoping for. 'Thank you- for coming. With the battle, I mean.' 'I've got one hell of a story to tell you,' he said, squeezing me tightly.”

“Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. 'I heard you made the killing blow,' he said. Elain studied the trees ahead. 'Nesta did. I just stabbed him.' Lucien seemed to fumble for a response, but I said to him, 'So where now? Off with Vassa?' I wondered if he'd heard of Tamlin's role- the help he'd given us. A look at my friend showed me he had. Someone, perhaps my mate, had informed him. Lucien shrugged. 'First- here. To help. Then...' Another glance at Elain. 'Who knows?' I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted. 'You could come to Velaris.' He saw all of it, but nodded graciously. 'It would be my pleasure.”

“He told me that he's got three daughters who live here. And that he failed them for many years. But he would not fail them this time.' The ships at the front of the human armada became clear, along with the gold lettering on their sides. 'He named his three personal ships after them,' Drakon said with a smile. And there, sailing at the front... I beheld the names of those ships. The Feyre. The Elain. And leading the charge against Hybern, flying over the waves, unyielding and without an ounce of fear... The Nesta. With my father... our father at the helm.”

“Amren said to her, 'I'm surprised you didn't take the king's head back to have stuffed and hung on your wall.' Nesta's eyes shot to her. Mor clicked her tongue. 'Some would consider that joke to be in bad taste, Amren.' 'I saved your asses. I'm entitled to say what I want.' And with that Amren stalked out of the house and into the city streets. 'The new Amren is even crankier than the old one,' Elain said softly.”

“I felt him before he appeared, a spark of star-kissed joy flaring through me right as Rhys stepped out of the air itself. "Well?" Cassian hopped off the boulder, extending a hand to help me down. "You're not going to like his asking price." Rhys held out both hands to winnow us back to Velaris. "If he wants the fancy dinner plates, he can have them." Neither Cassian nor I could muster a laugh as we both reached for Rhys's outstretched hands. "You better bring your bargaining skills tonight," was all Cassian muttered to my mate before we vanished into shadow.”

“It is no waste,' I said. 'One life may change the world. Where would you all be if someone had deemed saving my life to be a waste of time?' I pointed to Rhys. 'If he had deemed saving my life Under the Mountain a waste of time? Even if it's only twenty families, or ten... They are not a waste. Not to me- or to you.”

“I wanted to see if you were worth helping,' the Carver went on. 'It's a rare person to face who they truly are and not run from it- not be broken by it. That's what the Ouroboros shows all who look into it: who they are, every despicable and unholy inch. Some gaze upon it and don't realise that the horror they're seeing is them- even as the terror of it drives them mad. Some swagger in and are shattered by the small, sorry creature they find instead. But you... Yes, rare indeed. I could risk leaving here for nothing less.' Rage- blistering rage started to fill in the holes left by what I'd beheld in that mirror. 'You wanted to see if I was worthy?' That innocent people were worthy of being helped. A nod. 'I did. And you are. And now I shall help you.' I debated slamming the cell door in his face. But I only said quietly, 'Good.' I walked over to him. And I was not afraid as I grabbed the Bone Carver's cold hand. 'Then let's begin.”

“Rhys turned to me. If you can get across that battlefield in time, then do it. Try to stop the army. The king. But if you can't, when it all goes to hell... When there are none of us left... Don't, I begged him. Don't say it. I want you to run. I don't care what it costs. You run. Get far away, and live to fight another day. You don't look back. I began to shake my head. You said no good-byes.”

“I saw him assess the field ahead- and transform. The talons came first. Replacing fingers and feet. Then dark scales or perhaps feathers, I couldn't get a look at them, covered his legs, his arms, his chest. His body contorted, bones and muscles growing and shifting. The beast form Rhys had kept hidden. Never liked to unleash. Unless it was dire enough to do so. Before the Cauldron swept me away, I beheld what happened to his head, his face. It was a thing of nightmares. Nothing human or Fae in it. It was a creature that lived in black pits and only emerged at night to hunt and feast. That face... it was those creatures that had been carved into the rock of the Court of Nightmares. That made up his throne. The throne not only a representation of his power... but of what lurked within. And with the wings... Hybern soldiers began fleeing. Helion beheld what happened and ran, too- but towards Rhys. Shifting as well. If Rhys was a flying terror crafted from shadows and cold moonlight, Helion was his daytime equivalent. Gold feathers and shredding claws and feathered wings- Together, my mate and the High Lord of Day unleashed themselves upon Hybern.”

“Paint that when we get home. Busybody. I peered over my shoulder to Rhys, who stepped up to our little circle in the grass. His face remained more haggard than usual, lines of strain bracketing his mouth. And I realised... I would not get that last night with him. Last night- that had been the final night. We'd spent it winnowing- Don't think like that. Don't go into this battle thinking you won't walk off again. His gaze was sharp. Unyielding. Breathing became difficult. This break is the last time we'll all be here- talking. For this final leg of the march we were about to embark on... It would take us right to the battlefield. Rhys lifted a brow. Would you like to go into that wagon for a few minutes, then? It's a little cramped between the weapons and supplies, but I can make it work.”