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A Court of Wings and Ruin

Book by Sarah J. Maas · 43 quotes · A Court Of Wings And Ruin, Sarah J Maas, Feyre Archeron

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A Court of Wings and Ruin Quotes

“If you want to start convincing your sisters, get them out of the House. Being cooped up never helped anyone.' Rhys said smoothly, 'I'm not entirely sure Velaris is prepared for Nesta Archeron.' 'My sister's not some feral animal,' I snapped. Rhys recoiled a bit, the others suddenly finding the carpet, the divan, the books incredibly fascinating. 'I didn't mean that.' I didn't answer.”

FunnySarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysNesta ArcheronA Court Of Wings And RuinAmrenOut Of Line
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“I'd opted for my Illyrian leather pants and a loose, white shirt- and a pair of embroidered slippers that Cassian kept snorting at as we flew. When he did so for the third time in two minutes, I pinched his arm and said, 'It's hot. Those boots are stuffy.' His brows rose, the portrait of innocence. 'I didn't say anything.' 'You grunted. Again.' 'I've been living with Mor for five hundred years. I've learned the hard way not to question shoe choices.' He smirked. 'However stupid they may be.' 'It's dinner. Unless there's some battle planned afterward.' 'Your sister will be there- I'd say that's battle aplenty.”

FunnyShoesSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronCassianNesta ArcheronA Court Of Wings And RuinMorSnorting
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“It wasn't a formal dinner by any means- though Lucien, standing near the windows and watching the sun set over Velaris, was wearing a fine green jacket embroidered with gold, his cream-coloured pants showing off muscled thighs, and his knee-high black boots polished enough that the chandeliers of faelight reflected off them. He'd always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and a jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord's son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish- but well-mannered and elegant.”

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“The painting was a lie. A bright, pretty lie, bursting with pale pink blooms and fat beams of sunshine. I'd begun it yesterday, an idle study of the rose garden lurking beyond the open windows of the studio. Through the tangle of thorns and satiny leaves, the brighter greens of the hills rolled away into the distance. Incessant, unrelenting spring. If I'd painted this glimpse into the court the way my gut had urged me, it would have been flesh-shredding thorns, flowers that choked off the sunlight for any plants smaller than them, and rolling hills stained red. But each brushstroke on the wide canvas was calculated; each dab and swirl of blending colours meant to portray not just idyllic spring, but a sunny disposition as well. Not too happy, but gladly, finally healing from horrors I'd carefully divulged. I supposed that in the past weeks, I had crafted my demeanour as intricately as one of those paintings. I supposed that if I had also chosen to show myself as I truly wished, I would have adorned with flesh shredding talons, and hands that choked the life out of those now in my company. I would have left the gilded halls stained red.”

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“I did it for you, too, you know.' Cold, hard words. 'I went with him to get you back.' 'I never realised what a powerful motivator guilt can be.' 'That day you- went away,' he said, struggling to avoid that other word- left. 'I beat Tamlin back to the manor- received the message when we were out on the border and raced here. But the only trace of you was that ring, melted between the stones of the parlour. I got rid of it a moment before Tam arrived home to see it.' A probing, careful statement. Of the facts that pointed not toward abduction. 'They melted it off my finger,' I lied. His throat bobbed, but he just shook his head, the sunlight leaking through the forest canopy setting the ember-red of his hair flickering.”

LyingGuiltSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronSuspiciousTamlinA Court Of Wings And RuinLucienDid It For You
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“I turned to Lucien, my light radiating so brightly that it bounced off his metal eye. A friend beseeching another for help. I reached a hand toward him. Beyond us, I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it. Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow. Like stalks of wheat in a wind, the others fell to their knees as well. For in all of her preening ceremonies and rituals, never had Ianthe revealed any sign of power or blessing. But Feyre Cursebreaker, who had let Prythian from tyranny and darkness... Blessed. Holy. Undimming before evil. I let my glow spread, until it, too, rippled from Lucien's bowed form. A knight before his queen. When I looked to Ianthe and smiled again, I let a little bit of the wolf show.”

FunnyPowerSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronA Court Of Wings And RuinLucienTrickeryIantheAwed
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“You might be willing to get on your knees for Hybern, but I certainly am not.' He exploded. Furniture splintered and went flying, windows cracked and shattered. And this time, I did not shield myself. The worktable slammed into me, throwing me against the bookshelf, and every place where flesh and bone met wood barked and ached. My knees slammed into the carpeted floor, and Tamlin was instantly in front of me, hands shaking- The doors burst open. 'What have you done,' Lucien breathed, and Tamlin's face was the picture of devastation as Lucien shoved him aside. He let Lucien shove him aside and help me stand. Something wet and warm slid down my cheek- blood, from the scent of it. 'Let's get you cleaned up,' Lucien said, an arm around my shoulders as he eased me from the room. I barely heard him over the ringing in my ears, the slight spinning to the world. The sentries- Bron and Hart, two of Tamlin's favourite lord-warriors among them- were gaping, attention torn between the wrecked study and my face. With good reason. As Lucien led me past a gilded hall mirror, I beheld what had drawn such horror. My eyes were glassy, my face pallid- save for the scratch just beneath my cheekbone, perhaps two inches long and leaking blood. Little scratches peppered my neck, my hands. But I willed that cleansing, healing power- that of the High Lord of Dawn- to keep from seeking them out. From smoothing them away. 'Feyre,' Tamlin breathed from behind us. I halted, aware of every eye that watched. 'I'm fine,' I whispered. 'I'm sorry.' I wiped at the blood dribbling down my cheek. 'I'm fine,' I told him again. No one, not even Tamlin, looked convinced. And if I could have painted that moment, I would have named it A Portrait in Snares and Baiting.”

PowerAngerSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronTamlinA Court Of Wings And RuinLucienOutburst
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“I know better than to tell you to be careful, or to come home. But I want you home. Soon. And I want him dead for putting a hand on you. Even with the entirety of the land between us, his rage rippled down the bond. I answered, my tone soothing, Technically, his magic touched me, not his hand. The bathwater was cold by the time his reply came through. I'm glad you have a sense of humour about this. I certainly don't. I sent back an image of me sticking out my tongue at him. My clothes were back on when his answer arrived. Like mine, it was wordless, a mere image. Like mine, Rhysand's tongue was out. But it was occupied with doing something else.”

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“Take your hands off him.' She did. 'Unshackle him.' Lucien's skin drained of colour as Ianthe obeyed me, her face queerly vacant, pliant. The blue stone shackles thumped to the mossy ground. Lucien's shirt was askew, the top button on his pants already undone. The roaring that filled my mind was so loud I could barely hear myself as I said, 'Pick up that rock.' Lucien remained pressed against that tree. And he watched in silence as Ianthe stopped to pick up a grey, rough rock about the size of an apple. 'Put your right hand on that boulder.' She obeyed, though a tremor went down her spine. Her mind thrashed and struggled against me, like a fish snared on a line. I dug my mental talons in deeper, and some inner voice of hers began screaming. 'Smash your hand with the rock as hard as you can until I tell you to stop.' The hand she'd put on him, on so many others. Ianthe brought the stone up. The first impact was a muffled, wet thud. The second was an actual crack. The third drew blood. Her arm rose and fell, her body shuddering with the agony. And I said to her very clearly, 'You will never touch another person against their will. You will never convince yourself that they truly want your advances; that they're playing games. You will never know another's touch unless they initiate, unless it's desired by both sides.' Thwack; crack; thud. 'You will not remember what happened here. You will tell the others that you fell.' Her ring finger had shifted in the wrong direction. 'You are allowed to see a healer to set the bones. But not to erase the scarring. And every time you look at that hand, you are going to remember that touching people against their will has consequences, and if you do it again, everything you are will cease to exist. You will live with that terror every day, and never know where it originates. Only the fear of something chasing you, hunting you, waiting for you the instant you let your guard down.' Silent tears of pain flowed down her face. 'You can stop now.' The bloodied rock tumbled onto the grass. Her hand was little more than cracked bones wrapped in shredded skin. 'Kneel here until someone finds you.' Ianthe fell to her knees, her ruined hand leaking blood onto her pale robes. 'I debated slitting your throat this morning,' I told her. 'I debated it all last night while you slept beside me. I've debated it every single day since I learned you sold out my sisters to Hybern.' I smiled a bit. 'But I think this is a better punishment. And I hope you live a long, long life, Ianthe, and never know a moment's peace.' I stared down at her for a moment longer, tying off the tapestry of words and commands I'd woven into her mind, and turned to Lucien. He'd fixed his pants, his shirt. His wide eyes slid from her to me, then to the bloodied stone. 'The word you're looking for, Lucien,' crooned a deceptively light female voice, 'is daemati.”

PunishmentSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronA Court Of Wings And RuinSexual AssaultLucienPaybackPowersIanthe
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“You're going back. To the Night Court.' I shouldered my heavy pack and finally looked at him. 'Yes.' His tan face had paled. But he surveyed Ianthe, the two dead royals. 'I'm going with you.' 'No,' was all I said, heading for the trees. A cramp formed deep in my belly. I had to get away- had to use the last of my power to winnow to the hills. 'You won't make it without magic,' he warned me. I just gritted my teeth against the sharp pain in my abdomen as I rallied my strength to winnow to those distant foothills. But Lucien gripped my arm, halting me. 'I'm going with you,' he said again, face splattered with blood as bright as his hair. 'I'm getting my mate back.' There was no time for this argument. For the truth and debate and the answers I saw he desperately wanted. Tamlin and the others would have heard the shouting by now. 'Don't make me regret this,' I told him.”

DeterminationSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronTamlinEscapingA Court Of Wings And RuinLucienGoing BackIm Going With You
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“Lucien's red hair gleamed like the leaves above us as he scanned the woods for anything to fill our bellies. His woods, by blood and law. He was a son of this forest, and here... He looked crafted from it. For it. Even that gold eye. Lucien eventually stopped at a jade stream wending through a granite-flanked gully, a spot he claimed had once been rich with trout. I was in the process of constructing a rudimentary fishing pole when he waded into the stream, boots off and pants rolled to his knees, and caught one with his bare hands. He'd tied his hair up, a few strands of it falling into his face as he swooped down again and threw a second trout onto the sandy bank where I'd been trying to find a substitute for fishing twine. We remained silent as the fish eventually stopped flapping, their sides catching and gleaming with all the colours so bright above us. Lucien picked them up by their tails, as if he'd done it a thousand times. He might very well have, right here in this stream. 'I'll clean them while you start the fire.”

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“Lucien leaned his head back against the rock wall behind us. 'And then I'll ask your mate how he survived it- knowing you were engaged to someone else. Sharing another male's bed.' I tucked my freezing hands under my arms, gazing toward the gloom ahead. 'Tell me when you knew,' he demanded, his knee pressing into mine. 'That Rhysand was your mate. Tell me when you stopped loving Tamlin and started loving him instead.' I chose not to answer. 'Was it going on before you even left?' I whipped my head to him, even if I could barely make out his features in the dark. 'I never touched Rhysand like that until months later.' 'You kissed Under the Mountain.' 'I had as little choice in that as I did in the dancing.' 'And yet this is the male you now love.' He didn't know- he had no inkling of the personal history, the secrets, that had opened my heart to the High Lord of the Night Court. They were not my stories to tell. 'One would think, Lucien, that you'd be glad I fell in love with my mate, given that you were in the same situation Rhys was in six months ago.”

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“His red hair gleamed in the faint firelight a moment later as he shoved through the flaps and swore. 'Maybe I should sleep out there.' I rolled my eyes. 'Please.' A way, considering glance as he knelt and removed his boots. 'You know Tamlin can be... sensitive about things.' 'He can also be a pain in my ass,' I snapped, and slithered under the blankets. 'If you yield to him on every bit of paranoia and territorialism, you'll just make it worse.' Lucien unbuttoned his jacket but remained mostly dressed as he slid onto his sleeping roll. 'I think it's made worse because you two haven't... I mean, you haven't, right?' I stiffened, tugging the blanket tighter onto my shoulders. 'No. I don't want to be touched like that- not for a while.' His silence was heavy- sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. 'I'm sorry,' he said. And I wondered what else he was apologising for as I faced him in the darkness of our tent.”

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“I wasn't sure I'd been born with the ability to forgive. Not for terrors inflicted on those I loved. For myself, I didn't care- not nearly as much. But there was some fundamental pillar of steel in me that could not bend or break in this. Could not stomach the idea of letting these people get away with what they'd done.”

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“I heard Lucien first. 'Back off.' A low female laugh. Everything in me went still and cold at that sound. I'd heard it once before- in Rhysand's memory. Keep going. They were distracted, horrible as it was. Keep going, keep going, keep going. 'I thought you'd seek me out after the Rite,' Ianthe purred. They couldn't be more than thirty feet through the trees. Far enough away not to hear my presence, if I was quiet enough. 'I was obligated to perform the Rite,' Lucien snapped. 'That night wasn't the product of desire, believe me.' 'We had fun, you and I.' 'I'm a mated male now.' Every second was the ringing of my death knell. I'd primed everything to fall; I'd long since stopped feeling any guilt or doubt about my plan. Not with Alis now safely away. And yet- and yet- 'You don't act that way with Feyre.' A silk-wrapped threat. 'You're mistaken.' 'Am I?' Twigs and leaves crunched, as if she was circling him. 'You put your hands all over her.' I had done my job too well, provoked her jealousy too much with every instance I'd found ways to get Lucien to touch me in her presence, in Tamlin's presence. 'Do not touch me,' he growled. And then I was moving. I masked the sound of my footfalls, silent as a panther as I stalked to the little clearing where they stood. Where Lucien stood, back against a tree- twin bands of blue stone shackled around his wrists. I'd seen them before. On Rhys, to immobilise his power. Stone hewn from Hybern's rotted land, capable of nullifying magic. And in this case... holding Lucien against that tree as Ianthe surveyed him like a snake before a meal. She slid a hand over the broad panes of his chest, his stomach. And Lucien's eyes shot to me as I stepped between the trees, fear and humiliation reddening his golden skin. 'That's enough,' I said. Ianthe whipped her head to me. Her smile was innocent, simpering. But I saw her note the pack, Tamlin's bandolier. Dismiss them. 'We were in the middle of a game. Weren't we, Lucien?' He didn't answer. And the sight of those shackles on him, however she'd trapped him, the sight of her hand still on his stomach- 'We'll return to the camp when we're done,' she said, turning to him again. Her hand slid lower, not for his own pleasure, but simply to throw it in my face that she could-”

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“You tell them I killed them. In self-defence. After they hurt me so badly while you and Tamlin did nothing. Even when they torture you for the truth, you say that I fled after I killed them- to save this court from their horrors.' Blank, vacant eyes were my only answer. 'Feyre.' Lucien's voice was a hoarse rasp.”

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“How are you not winded,' he panted, hauling himself onto the flat top. I shoved back the hair that had torn free of my braid to whip my face. 'I trained.' 'I gathered that much after you took on Dagdan and walked away from it.' 'I had the element of surprise on my side.' 'No,' Lucien said quietly as I reached for a foothold in the next boulder. 'That was all you.' My nails barked as I dug my fingers into the rock and heaved myself up. Lucien added. 'You had my back- with them, with Ianthe. Thank you.' The words hit something low in my gut, and I was glad for the wind that kept roaring around us, if only to hide the burning in my eyes.”

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“Towering, exquisite palaces, full of roaring hearths and bedecked in evergreens. Carved sleighs were the court's preferred method of transportation, hauled by velvet-antlered reindeer whose splayed hooves were ideal for the ice and snow. Their forces were well trained, but they often relied on the great, white bears that stalked the realm for any unwanted visitors.”

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“The world should know,' I said. 'The world should know how good you are, Rhysand- how wonderful all of you are.' 'I can't tell if I should be worried that you're saying such nice things about me. Maybe the king's taunting did get to you.' I pinched his arm, and he let out a low laugh before raising my face to study my eyes. He angled his head. 'Should I be worried?' I put a hand to his cheek once more, the silken skin now warm. 'You are selfless, and brave, and kind. You are more than I ever dreamed for myself, more than I...' The words choked off, and I swallowed, taking a deep breath. I wasn't sure if he needed to hear it after what the king had said, but I needed to say it.”

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“Strong, broad hands rubbed down my spine, and I opened my eyes to find the room wholly black, Rhysand perched on the mattress beside me. 'Do you want anything to eat?' His voice was soft- tentative. I didn't raise my head from the pillow. 'I feel... heavy again,' I breathed, voice breaking. Rhys said nothing as he gathered me up into his arms. He was still in his jacket, as if he'd just come in from wherever he'd been talking with Cassian. In the dark, I breathed in his scent, savoured his warmth. 'Are you all right?' Rhys was quiet for a long minute. 'No.' I slid my arms around him, holding him tightly. 'I should have found another way,' he said. I stroked my fingers through his silken hair. Rhys murmured, 'If she...' His swallow was audible. 'If she showed up at this house...' I knew who he meant. 'I would kill her. Without even letting her speak. I would kill her.' 'I know.' I would, too. 'You asked me at the library,' he whispered. 'Why I... Why I'd rather take all of this upon myself. Tonight is why. Seeing Mor cry is why. I made a bad call. Tried to find some other way around this shithole we're in.' And had lost something- Mor had lost something- in the process. We held each other in silence for minutes. Hours. Two souls, twining in the dark. I lowered my shields, let him in fully. His mind curled around mine. 'Would you risk looking into it- the Ouroboros?' I asked. 'Not yet,' was all Rhys said, holding me tighter. 'Not yet.”

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“Panic- and rage. That was all he knew as he shot down into the heart of the pit, spearing for that ancient darkness that had once shaken him to his very marrow. Nesta was there- and Feyre. It was the former her saw first, stumbling out of the dark, wide-eyed, her fear a tang that whetted his rage into something so sharp he could barely think, barely breathe- She let out a small, animal sound- like some wounded stag- as she saw him. As he landed so hard his knees popped. He said nothing as Nesta launched herself toward him, her dress filthy and dishevelled, her arms stretching for him. He opened his own for her, unable to stop his approach, his reaching- She gripped his leathers instead. 'Feyre,' she rasped, pointing behind her with a free hand, shaking him solidly with the other. Strength- such untapped strength in that slim, beautiful body. 'Hybern.' That was all he needed to hear. He drew his sword- then Rhys was arrowing for them, his power like a gods-damned volcanic eruption. Cassian charged ahead into the gloom, following the screaming-”

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“The chamber was a cool, chill black- as if we'd stepped inside the mind of some sleeping beast. And within its round space gleamed glittering islands of light. Of jewels. Ten thousand years' worth of treasure. It was neatly organised, in podiums and open drawers and busts and racks. 'The family jewels,' Rhys said with a devious grin. ... ...carved into the rock was an entire wall of crowns. They each had their own resting place, lined with black velvet, each illuminated by- 'Glowworms,' Rhys told me as the tiny, bluish globs crusted in the arches of each nook seemed to glitter like the entire night sky. In fact... What I'd taken for small faelights in the ceiling high above... It was all glowworms. Pale blue and turquoise, their light as silken as moonlight, illumining the jewels with ancient, silent fire. 'Pick one,' Rhys whispered in my ear. 'A glowworm?' He nipped at my earlobe. 'Smartass.' He steered me back toward the wall of crowns, each wholly different- as individual as skulls. 'Pick whichever crown you like.' 'I can't just- take one.' 'You must certainly can. They belong to you.”

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“Rhys strode to me, and lifted a hand to brush my hair- but stopped upon seeing the blood crusting his fingers. He instead studied the tattoo now marring my left arm. 'As long as we don't have to invite it to solstice dinner, I can live with it.' 'You can live with it?' I lifted my brows. A ghost of a smile, even with all that had happened, that now lay before us. 'At least now if one of you misbehaves, I know the perfect punishment. Going down there to talk to that thing for an hour.' Nesta scowled with distaste, but Cassian let out a dark laugh. 'I'll take scrubbing toilets, thank you.' 'Your second encounter seemed less harrowing than the first.' 'It wasn't trying to eat me this time.' But shadows still darkened his eyes.”

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“Rhys stepped up to my side. 'As High Lady, Feyre is no longer my emissary to the human world.' He gave Nesta a tentative smile. 'Want the job?' Nesta's face yielded nothing, but I could have sworn some spark flared. 'Consider this meeting a trial basis. And I'll make you pay through the teeth for my services.' Rhys sketched a bow. 'I would expect nothing less of an Archeron sister.' I poked him in the ribs, and he huffed a laugh. 'Welcome to the court,' he said to her. 'You're about to have one hell of a first day.' And to my eternal shock, a smile tugged at Nesta's mouth.”

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“It was the clouds I saw first. Enormous clouds drifting in the cobalt sky, soft and magnanimous, still tinged by the rose remnants of sunrise, their round edges gilded with the golden light. The dewy freshness of morning lingered in the balmy air as we peered up at the mountain-palace spiralling into the heavens above. If the palace above the Court of Nightmares had been crafted of moonstone, this was made from... sunstone. I didn't have a word for the near-opalescent golden stone that seemed to hold the gleaming of a thousand sunrises within it. Steps and balconies and archways and verandas and bridges linked the towers and gilded domes of the palace, periwinkle morning glories climbing the pillars and neatly cut blocks of stone to drink in the gilded mists wafting by. Wafting by, because the mountain on which the palace stood... There was a reason I beheld the clouds first.”

MountainCloudsSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronSunriseA Court Of Wings And RuinPalaceDawn CourtThe Dawn Court
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“It wasn't only the cost of life that ripped and devastated and sundered. It was the altering of a soul with it- the realisation that I could perhaps go back home to Velaris, perhaps see peace achieved and cities rebuilt... but this battle, this war... I would be the thing forever changed. War would linger with me long after it had ended, some invisible scar that would perhaps fade, but never wholly vanish. But for my home, for Prythian and the human territory and so many others... I would clean my blades, and wash the blood from my skin. And I would do it again and again and again.”

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“I glanced between the grass and the crowd and the cluster of musicians coaxing such lively music from drums and fiddles and pipes as I approached, no more than a shy, hesitant doe. Once, those same sounds had shaken me awake, had made me dance and dance. I supposed they were now little more than weapons in my arsenal as I stopped before Tamlin, lowered my lashes, and asked softly, 'Will you dance with me?' Relief, happiness, and a slight edge of concern. 'Yes,' he breathed. 'Yes, of course.' So I let him lead me into the swift dance, spinning and tilting me, people gathering to cheer and clap. Dance after dance after dance, until sweat was running down my back as I worked to keep up, keep that smile on my face, to remember to laugh when my hands were within strangling distance of his throat.”

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“You left us.' Us. Not Tamlin. Us. The words echoed into the dark, toward the howling wind and lashing snow beyond the bend. 'I told you that day in the woods: you abandoned me long before I ever physically left.' I shivered again, hating every point of contact, that I so desperately needed his warmth. 'You fit into the Spring Court as little as I did, Lucien. You enjoyed its pleasures and diversions. But don't pretend you weren't made for something more than that.' His metal eye whirred. 'And where, exactly, do you believe I will fit in? The Night Court?' I didn't answer. I didn't have one.”

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“Elain had always been gentle and sweet- and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light. Perhaps that was why she now kept all the curtains open. To fill the void that existed where all of that light had once been. And now nothing remained.”

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