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Sarah J. Maas

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“Rhys shut the door and went to a small box on the desk- then silently handed it to me. My heart thundered as I opened the lid. The star sapphire gleamed in the candlelight, as if it were one of the Starfall spirits trapped in stone. 'Your mother's ring?' 'My mother gave me that ring to remind me she was always with me, even during the worst of my training. And when I reached my majority, she took it away. It was an heirloom of her family- had been handed down from female to female over many, many years. My sister wasn't yet born, so she wouldn't have known to give it to her, but... My mother gave it to the Weaver. And then she told me that if I were to marry or mate, then the female would either have to be smart or strong enough to get it back. And if the female wasn't either of those things, then she wouldn't survive the marriage. I promised my mother that any potential bride or mate would have the test... And so it sat there for centuries.' My face heated. 'You said this was something of value-' 'It is. To me, and my family.' 'So my trip to the Weaver-' 'It was vital that we learn if you could detect those objects. But... I picked the object out of pure selfishness.' 'So I won my wedding ring without even being asked if I wanted to marry you.' 'Perhaps.' I cocked my head. 'Do- do you want me to wear it?' 'Only if you want to.' 'When we go to Hybern... Let's say things go badly. Will anyone be able to tell that we're mated? Could they use that against you?' Rage flickered in his eyes. 'If they see us together and can scent us both, they'll know.' 'And if I show up alone, wearing a Night Court wedding ring-' He snarled softly. I closed the box, leaving the ring inside. 'After we nullify the Cauldron, I want to do it all. Get the bond declared, get married, throw a stupid party and invite everyone in Velaris- all of it.' Rhys took the box from my hands and set it down on the nightstand before herding me toward the bed. 'And if I wanted to go one step beyond that?' 'I'm listening,' I purred as he laid me on the sheets.”

“Where is she?' Amren snapped one more time. I couldn't bring myself to say the words. So Mor said them for me as she knelt over Azriel, both of my brothers mercifully unconscious. 'Tamlin offered passage through his lands and our heads on platters to the kings in exchange for trapping Feyre, breaking her bond, and getting to bring her back to the Spring Court. But Ianthe betrayed Tamlin- told the king where to find Feyre's sisters. So the king had Feyre's sisters brought with the queens- to prove he could make immortal. He put them in to the Cauldron. We could do nothing as they were turned. He had us by the balls.' Those quicksilver eyes shot to me. 'Rhysand.' I managed to say, 'We Were out of options, and Feyre knew it. So she pretended to free herself from the control Tamlin thought I'd kept on her mind. Pretended that she... hated us. And told him she'd go home- but only if the killing stopped. If we went free.' 'And the bond,' Amren breathed, Cassian's blood shining on her hands as she slowed its dribbling. Mor said, 'She asked the king to breath the bond. He obliged.' I thought I might be dying- thought my chest might actually be cleaved in two. 'That's impossible,' Amren said. 'That sort of bond cannot be broken.' 'The king said he could do it.' 'The king is a fool,' Amren barked. 'That sort of bond cannot be broken.' 'No, it can't,' I said. They both looked at me. I cleared my head, my shattering heart- breaking for what my mate had done, sacrificed for me and my family. For her sisters. Because she hadn't thought... hadn't thought she was essential. Even after all she had done. 'The king broke the bargain between us. Hard to do, but he couldn't tell that it wasn't the mating bond.' More started. 'Does- does Feyre know-' 'Yes,' I breathed. 'And now my mate is in my enemy's hands.”

“I'll come with you,' I said softly to Tamlin, to Lucien, shifting on his feet, 'if you leave them alone. Let them go.' You do not hold me. Tamlin's face contorted with wrath. 'They're monsters. They're-' He didn't finish as he stalked across the floor to grab me. To drag me out of here, then no doubt winnow away. You do not hold me. The fist gripping my power relaxed. Vanished. Tamlin lunged for me over the few feet that remained. So fast- too fast- I became mist and shadow. I winnowed beyond his reach. The king let out a low laugh as Tamlin stumbled. And went sprawling as Rhysand's fist connected with his face. Panting, I retreated right into Rhysand's arms as one looped around my waist, as Azriel's blood on him soaked into my back. Behind us, Mor leaped in to fill the space Rhys had vacated, slinging Azriel's arm over her shoulders. ... Tamlin rose, wiping the blood now trickling from his nose as he backed to where Lucien held his position with a hand on his sword. But just as Tamlin neared his Emissary, he staggered a step. His face went white with rage. And I knew Tamlin understood a moment before the king laughed. 'I don't believe it. Your bride left you only to find her mate. The Mother has a warped sense of humour, it seems. And what a talent- tell me, girl; how did you unravel that spell?' I ignored him. But the hatred in Tamlin's eyes made my knees buckle. 'I'm sorry,' I said, and meant it. Tamlin's eyes were on Rhysand, his face near-feral. 'You,' he snarled, the sound more animal than Fae. 'What did you do to her?”

“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.”

“The king jerked his chin at my left arm. 'Break that bond between you two.' 'Please,' I whispered. 'How else is Tamlin to have his bride? He can't very well have a wife who runs off to another male once a month.' Rhys remained silent, though his grip tightened on Azriel. Observing- weighing, sorting through the lock on his power. The thought of that silence between our souls being permanent... My voice cracked as I said to Tamlin, still at the opposite end of the crude half circle we'd formed before the dais. 'Don't. Don't let him. I told you- I told you that I was fine. That I left-' 'You weren't well,' Tamlin snarled. 'He used that bond to manipulate you. Why do you think I was gone so often? I was looking for a way to get you free. And you left.' 'I left because I was going to die in that house.' The King of Hybern clicked his tongue. 'Not what you expected, is it?' Tamlin growled at him, but again held out his hand toward me. 'Come home with me. Now.' 'No.' 'Feyre.' An unflinching command. Rhys was barely breathing- barely moving. And I realised... realised it was to keep his scent from becoming apparent. Our scent. Our mating bond.”

“I'm not going with you,' I spat at Tamlin. 'And even if I did... You spineless, stupid fool for selling us out to him! Do you know what he wants to do with that Cauldron?' 'Oh, I'm going to do many, many things with it,' the king said. And the Cauldron appeared again between us. 'Starting now.”

“There were different types of torture, I realised. There was the torture that I had endured, that Rhys had endured. And then there was this. The torture that Rhys had worked so hard those fifty years to avoid; the nightmares that haunted him. To be unable to move, to fight... while our loved ones were broken. My eyes met with those of my mate. Agony rippled in that violet stare- rage and guilt and utter agony. The mirror to my own.”

“Nesta fought every step of the way. She did not make it easy for them. She clawed and kicked and bucked. And it was not enough. And we were not enough to save her. I watched as she was hoisted up. Elain remained shuddering on the ground. Lucien's coat draped around her. She did not look at the Cauldron. Cassian stirred again, his shredded wings twitching and spraying blood, his muscles quivering. At Nesta's shouts, her raging, his eyes fluttered open, glazed and unseeing, an answer to some call in his blood, a promise he'd made her. But pain knocked him under again. Nesta was shoved into the water up to her shoulders. She bucked even as the water sprayed. She clawed and screamed her rage, her defiance. 'Put her under,' the king hissed. The guards straining, shoved her slender shoulders. Her brown-gold head. And as they pushed her head down, she thrashed one last time, freeing her long, pale arm Teeth bared, Nesta pointed one finger at the King of Hybern. One finger, a curse and a damning. A promise. And as Nesta's head was forced under the water, as that hand was violently shoved down, the King of Hybern had the good sense to look somewhat unnerved.”

“Tamlin?' I peered at my hands, the blood, and when I beheld Rhys, when I saw my grim-faced friends, and my drenched, immortal sisters- There was nothing but shock and confusion on Rhys's face as I scrambled back from him. Away from them. Toward Tamlin. 'Tamlin,' I managed to say again. Lucien's eye widened as he stepped between me and Elain. I whirled on the King of Hybern. 'Where-' I again faced Rhysand, 'What did you do to me,' I breathed, low and guttural. Backing toward Tamlin. 'What did you do?' Get them out. Get my sisters out. Play- please play along. Please- There was no sound, no shield, no glimmer of feeling in our bond. The king's power had blocked it out too thoroughly. There was nothing I could do against it, Cursebreaker or no. But Rhys slid his hands into his pockets as he purred, 'How did you get free?' 'What?' Jurian seethed, pushing off the wall and storming toward us. But I turned toward Tamlin and ignored the features and smell and clothes that were all wrong. He watched me warily. 'Don't let him take me again, don't let him- don't-' I couldn't keep the sobs from shuddering out, not as the full force of what I was doing hit me. 'Feyre,' Tamlin said softly. And I knew I had won. I sobbed harder. Get my sisters out, I begged Rhys through the silent bond. I ripped the wards open for you- all of you. Get them out. 'Don't let him take me,' I sobbed again. 'I don't want to go back.' And when I looked at Mor, at the tears streaming down her face as she helped Cassian get upright, I knew she realised what I meant. But the tears vanished- became sorrow for Cassian as she turned a hateful, horrified face to Rhysand and spat, 'What did you do to that girl?' Rhys cocked his head. 'How did you do it, Feyre?' There was so much blood on him. One last game- this was one last game we were to play together.”

“Jurian stalked over to Lucien amid the rising squabble, laughing under his breath, 'Do you know what Illyrian bastards do to pretty females? You won't have a mate left- at least not one that's useful to you in any way.' Lucien's answering growl was nothing short of feral. I spat at Jurian's feet. 'You can go to hell, you hideous prick.' Tamlin's hands tightened at my shoulders. Lucien spun toward me and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place. I was not panicking at my sisters being taken. I said quietly, 'We will get her back.' But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily. I said to Tamlin, 'Take me home.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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-”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“Slowly, I turned around, to where the soup was now boiling, and ladled it into a bowl. He watched every step I took to the table, the steaming bowl in my hands. I stopped before him, staring down. And I said, 'You love me?' Rhys nodded. And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he'd done for me. For what I felt for him. I set the bowl down before him. 'Then eat.”

“I think I fell in love with you,' Rhys murmured, stroking a finger down my arm, 'the moment I realised you were cleaving those bones to make a trap for the Middengard Wyrm. Or maybe the moment you flipped me off for mocking you. It reminded me so much of Cassian. For the first time in decades, I wanted to laugh.' 'You fell in love with me,' I said flatly, 'because I reminded you of your friend?' He flicked my nose. 'I fell in love with you, smartass, because you were one of us- because you weren't afraid of me, and you decided to end your spectacular victory by throwing that piece of bone at Amarantha like a javelin. I felt Cassian's spirit beside me in that moment, and could have sworn I heard him say, "if you don't marry her, you stupid prick, I will.”

“But then Cassian crossed to Nesta, the guards stiffening as the Illyrian moved through them as if they were stalks of wheat in a field. He studied Nesta for a long moment. She was still glaring at the queens, her eyes lined with tears- tears of rage and despair, from the fire that burned her so violently from within. When she finally noticed Cassian, she looked up at him. His voice was rough as he said, 'Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house- your people. I can think of no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most.' I watched a tear slide down Nesta's cheek. And I watched as Cassian reached up a hand to wipe it away. She did not flinch from his touch. I didn't know why, but I looked at Mor. Her eyes were wide. Not from jealously, or irritation, but... something perhaps like awe.”

“I ran again, losing myself amongst my water-wolves. Some of the soldiers were taking to the sky, flapping upward, backtracking. So my wolves grew wings, and talons, and became falcons and hawks and eagles. They slammed into their bodies, their armour, drenching them. The airborne soldiers, realising they hadn't been drowned, halted their flight and laughed- sneering. I lifted a hand skyward, and clenched my fingers into a fist. The water soaking them, their wings, their armour, their faces... It turned to ice. Ice that was so cold it had existed before light, before the sun had warmed the earth. Ice of a land cloaked in winter, ice from the parts of me that felt no mercy, no sympathy for what these creatures had done and were doing to my people. Frozen solid, dozens of the winged soldiers fell to the earth as one. And shattered upon the cobblestones. My wolves raged around me, tearing and drowning and hunting. And those that fled them, those that took to the skies- they froze and shattered; froze and shattered. Until the streets were laden with ice and gore and broken bits of wing and stone. Until the screaming of my people stopped, and the screams of the soldiers became a song in my blood.”

“Aren't you going to say anything?' he said at last. 'I was going to tell you what I'd decided the moment I saw you on the threshold.' Rhys twisted in his seat toward me. 'And now?' Aware of every breath, every movement, I sat in his lap. HIs hands gently braced my hips as I studied his face. 'And now I want you to know, Rhysand, that I love you. I want you to know...' His lips trembled, and I brushed away the tear that escaped down his cheek. 'I want you to know,' I whispered, 'that I am broken and healing, but every piece of my heart belongs to you. And I am honoured- honoured to be your mate.' His arms wrapped around me and he pressed his forehead to my shoulder, his body shaking. I stroked a hand through his silken hair. 'I love you,' I said again. I hadn't dared say the words in my head. 'And I'd endure every second of it over again so I could find you. And if war comes, we'll face it. Together. I won't let them take me from you. And I won't let them take you from me, either.' Rhys looked up, his face gleaming with tears. He went still as I leaned in, kissing away one tear. Then the other. As he had once kissed away mine. When my lips were wet and salty with them, I pulled back far enough to see his eyes. 'You're mine,' I breathed. His body shuddered with what might have been a sob, but his lips found my own. It was gentle- soft. The kiss he might have given me if we'd been granted time and peace to meet across our two separate worlds. To court each other. I slid my arms around his shoulders, opening my mouth to him, and his tongue slipped in, caressing my own. Mate- my mate.”

“I think I was falling in love with you for a while,' I said, the words barely audible over the trickle of water as I washed his beautiful wings. 'But I knew on Starfall. Or came close to knowing and was so scared of it that I didn't want to look closer. I was a coward.' 'You had perfectly good reasons to avoid it.' 'No, I didn't. Maybe- thanks to Tamlin, yes. But it had nothing to do with you, Rhys. Nothing to do with you. I was never afraid of the consequences of being with you. Even if every assassin in the world hunts us... it's worth it. You are worth it.' His head dipped a bit. And he said hoarsely, 'Thank you.' My heart broke for him then- for the years he'd spent thinking the opposite. I kissed his bare neck, and he reached back to drag a finger down my cheek.”

“He tugged on my wet hair. 'We'll have to find a way to put a damper on that light.' 'I can keep the shadows hidden easily enough.' 'Ah, but you only lose control of those when you're pissed. And since I have every intention of making you as happy as a person can be... I have a feeling we'll need to learn to control that wondrous glow.' 'Always thinking; always calculating.' Rhys kissed the corner of my mouth. 'You have no idea how many things I've thought up when it comes to you.' 'I remember mention of a wall.' His laugh was a sensual promise. 'Next time, Feyre, I'll fuck you against the wall.' 'Hard enough to make the pictures fall off.”

“He was sitting on the roof- in the dark. His great wings were spread behind him, draped over the tiles. I slid into his lap, looping my arms around his neck. He stared at the city around us. 'So few lights. So few lights left tonight.' I did not look. I only traced the lines of his face, then brushed my thumb over his mouth. 'It is not your fault,' I said quietly. His eyes shifted to mine, barely visible in the dark. 'Isn't it? I handed this city over to them. I said I would be willing to risk it, but... I don't know who I hate more: the king, those queens, or myself.' I brushed the hair out of his face. He gripped my hand, halting my fingers. 'You shut me out,' he breathed. 'You- shielded against me. Completely. I couldn't find a way in.' 'I'm sorry.' Rhys let out a bitter laugh. 'Sorry? Be impressed. That shield... What you did to the Attor...' He shook his head. 'You could have been killed.' 'Are you going to scold me for it?' His brow furrowed. Then he buried his face in my shoulder. 'How could I scold you for defending my people? I want to throttle you, yes, for not going back to the town house, but... You chose to fight for them. For Velaris.' He kissed my neck. 'I don't deserve you.' My heart strained. He meant it- truly felt that way. I stroked his hair again. And I said to him, the words the only sound in the silent, dark city, 'We deserve each other. And we deserve to be happy.' Rhys shuddered against me. And when his lips found mine, I let him lay me down upon the roof tiles and make love to me under the stars.”