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“His head lifted. Pain-filled eyes, bloodless lips. 'You saved me,' he rasped. 'You can explain who they were later.' 'Ambush,' Rhys said anyway, his eyes scanning my face for signs of hurt. 'Hybern soldiers with ancient chains from the king himself, to nullify my power. They must have traced the magic I used yesterday... I'm sorry.' The words tumbled out of him. I brushed back his dark hair. That was why I hadn't been able to use the bond to speak mind to mind. 'Rest,' I said, and moved to retrieve the blanket from my pack. It'd have to do. He gripped my wrist before I could rise. His eyelids lowered. Consciousness ripped from him- too fast. Much too fast and too heavy. 'I was looking for you, too,' Rhys murmured. And passed out.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I'd run away. Precisely how Rhys expected me to run- how I'd told him anyone in their right mind would run from him. Like a coward, like a fool, I'd left him injured in the freezing mud. I'd walked away from him- a day after I'd told him he was the only thing I'd never walk away from. I'd demanded honesty, and at the first true test, I hadn't even let him give it to me. I hadn't granted him the consideration of hearing him out. You see me. Well, I'd refused to see him. Maybe I'd refused to see what was right in front of me. I'd walked away. And maybe... maybe I shouldn't have.”

Sarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryRun AwayRefusedRan AwayNo Consideration
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I'd painted nearly every surface in the main room. And not with just broad swaths of colour, but with decorations- little images. Some were basic: colours of icicles drooping down the sides of the threshold. They melted into the first shoots of spring, then burst into full blooms of summer, before brightening and deepening into fall leaves. I'd painted a ring of flowers round the card table by the window, leaves and crackling flames around the dining table. But in between the intricate decorations, I'd painted them. Bits and pieces of Mor, and Cassian, and Azriel, and Amren... and Rhys. Mor went up to the large hearth, where I'd painted the mantel in black shimmering with veins of gold and red. Up close, it was a solid pretty bit of paint. But from the couch... 'Illyrian wings,' she said. 'Ugh, they'll never stop gloating about it.' But she went to the window, which I'd framed in tumbling strands of gold and brass and bronze. Mor fingered her hair, cocking her head. 'Nice,' she said, surveying the room again. Her eyes fell on the open threshold to the bedroom hallway, and she grimaced. 'Why,' she said, 'are Amren's eyes there?' Indeed, right above the door, in the centre of the archway, I'd painted a pair of glowing silver eyes. 'Because she's always watching.' Mor snorted. 'That simply won't do. Paint my eyes next to hers. So the males of this family will know we're both watching them the next time they come up here to get drunk for a week straight.' 'They do that?' They used to.' Before Amarantha. 'Every autumn, the three of them would lock themselves in this house for five days and drink and drink and hunt and hunt, and they'd come back to Velaris looking halfway to death but grinning like fools. It warms my heart to know that from now on, they'll have to do it with me and Amren staring at them.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“You should talk to him, though. Make him stew over it, of course, but... hear him out.' She didn't look at me as she spoke. 'Rhys always has his reasons, and he might be arrogant as hell, but he's usually right about his instincts. He makes mistakes, but... You should hear him out.' I'd already decided that I would.”

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“My fingers grazed his. Warm and sturdy- patient, as if waiting to see what else I might do. Maybe it was the wind, but I stroked a finger down his. And as I turned to him more fully, something blinding and tinkling slammed into my face. I reeled back, crying out as I bent over, shielding my face against the light that I could still see against my shut eyes. Rhys let out a startled laugh. A laugh. And when I realised that my eyes hadn't been singed out of their sockets, I whirled on him. 'I could have been blinded!' I hissed, shoving him. He took a look at my face and burst out laughing again. Real laughter, open and delighted and lovely. I wiped at my face, and when I pulled my hands down, I gasped. Pale green light- like drops of paint- glowed in flecks on my hand. Splattered star-spirit. I didn't know if I should be horrified or amused. Or disgusted. When I went to rub it off, Rhys caught my hand. 'Don't,' he said, still laughing. 'It looks like your freckles are glowing.' My nostrils flared, and I went to shove him again, not caring if my new strength knocked him off the balcony. He could summon wings; he could deal with it. He sidestepped me, veering toward the balcony rail, but not fast enough to avoid the careening star that collided with the side of his face. He leaped back with a curse. I laughed, the sound rasping out of me. Not a chuckle or snort, but a cackling laugh. And I laughed again, and again, as he lowered his hands from his eyes. The entire left side of his face had been hit. Like heavenly war paint, that's what it looked like. I could see why he didn't want me to wipe mine away. Rhys was examining his hands, covered in the dust, and I stepped toward him, peering at the way it glowed and glittered. He went still as death as I took one of his hands in my own and traced a star shape on the top of his palm, playing with the glimmer and shadows, until it looked like one of the stars that had hit us. His fingers tightened on mine, and I looked up. He was smiling at me. And looked so un-High-Lord-like with the glowing dust on the side of his face that I grinned back. I hadn't even realised what I'd done until his own smile faded,, and his mouth partly slightly. 'Smile again,' he whispered. I hadn't smiled for him. Ever. Or laughed. Under the Mountain, I had never grinned, never chuckled. And afterward... And this male before me... my friend... For all that he had done, I had never given him either. Even when I had just... I had just painted something. On him. For him. I'd- painted again. So I smiled at him, broad and without restraint. 'You're exquisite,' he breathed.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Rhys led me to a small private balcony jutting from the upper level of The House of Wind. On the patios below, the music still played, the people still danced, the stars wheeling by, close and swift. He let go as I took a seat on the balcony rail. I immediately decided against it as I beheld the drop, and backed away a healthy step. Rhys chuckled, 'If you feel, you know I'd bother to save you before you hit the ground.' 'But not until I was close to death?' 'Maybe.' I leaned a hand against the rail, peering at the stars whizzing past. 'As punishment for what I said to you?' 'I said some horrible things, too,' he murmured. 'I didn't mean it,' I blurted. 'I meant it more about myself than you. And I'm sorry.' He watched the stars for a moment before he replied. 'You were right, though. I stayed away because you were right. Though I'm glad to hear my absence felt like a punishment.' I snorted, but was grateful for the humour- for the way he'd always been able to amuse me.”

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“Rhys looked at the menagerie of water-animals I'd crafted and said, 'What else?' Perhaps it was the cold, perhaps it was his story, but hoarfrost cracked in my veins, and the wild song of a winter wind howled in my heart. I felt it then- how easy it would be to jump between them, join them together, my powers. Each one of my animals halted mid-air... and froze into perfectly carved bits of ice. One by one, they dropped to the earth. And shattered. They were one. They had come from the same, dark origin, the same eternal wall of power. Once, long ago- before language was invented and the world was new.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Everyone around him had some use, some mighty skill. And yet there I was... nothing more than a strange hybrid. More trouble than I was worth. 'You're not,' he said. 'Don't read my thoughts.' 'I can't help what you sometimes shout down the bond. And besides, everything is usually written on your face, if you know where to look. Which made your performance today so much more impressive.”

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“And as for this one...' I tried not to flinch away from meeting his stare. 'She's mine,' he said quietly, but viciously enough that Devlon and his warriors nearby heard. 'And if any of you lay a hand on her, you lose that hand. And then you lose your head.' I tried not to shiver, as Cassian and Mor showed no reaction at all. 'And once Feyre is done killing you,' Rhys smirked, 'then I'll grind your bones to dust.”

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“I- I'm sorry,' I breathed, my voice hoarse. 'What do you possibly have to be sorry for?' 'I didn't know. I didn't know that he'd done that-' And Rhys thought I'd been comparing him- comparing him against Tamlin, as if I held him to be some paragon... ... The people he'd loved most- gone. Slaughtered in cold blood. Slaughtered by Tamlin.”

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“His red hair was tied back, and there wasn't a hint of finery on him, just armoured leather, swords, knives... His metal eye roamed over me, his golden skin pale. 'We've been hunting you for over two months,' he breathed, now scanning the woods, the stream, the sky. Rhys. Cauldron save me. Rhys was too far back, and- 'How did you find me?' My steady, cold voice wasn't one I recognised. But- hunting for me. As if I were indeed prey. If Tamlin was here... My blood went icier than the freezing rain now sluicing down my face, into my clothes. 'Someone tipped us off you'd been out here, but it was luck that we caught your scent on the wind, and-' Lucien took a step toward me. I stepped back. Only three feet between me and the stream. Lucien's eye widened slightly. 'We need to get out of here. Tamlin's been- he hasn't been himself. I'll take you right to-' 'No,' I breathed. The word rasped through the rain, the stream, the pine forest. The four sentinels glanced between each other, then to the arrow I kept aimed. Lucien took me in again. And I could see what he was gleaming: the Illyrian fighting leathers. The colour and fullness that had returned to my face, my body. And the silent steel of my eyes. 'Feyre,' he said,' holding out a hand. 'Let's go home.' I didn't move. 'That stopped being my home the day you let him lock me up inside of it.' Lucien's mouth tightened. 'It was a mistake. We all made mistakes. He's sorry- more sorry than you realise. So am I.' He stepped toward me, and I backed up another few inches.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Feyre,' Lucien pleaded, and dared another step, his hand outraised. My arrow angled toward him, my bowstring groaning. I'd never realised that while Lucien had been trained as a warrior, Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Rhys were warriors. Cassian could wipe Lucien off the face of the earth in a single blow. 'Put the arrow down,' Lucien murmured, like he was soothing a wild animal. Behind him, the four sentinels closed in. Herding me. The High Lord's pet and possession. 'Don't,' I breathed. 'Touch. Me.' 'You don't understand the mess we're in, Feyre. We- I need you home. Now.' I didn't want to hear it. Peering at the stream below, I calculated my odds. The look cost me. Lucien lunged, hand out. One touch, that was all it'd take- I was no the High Lord's pet any longer. And maybe the world should learn that I did indeed have fangs. Lucien's finger grazed the sleeve of my leather jacket. And I became smoke and ash and night. The world stilled and bent, and there was Lucien, lunging so slowly for what was now blank space as I stepped around him, as I hurtled for the trees behind the sentinels. I stopped, and time resumed its natural flow. Lucien staggered, catching himself before he went over the cliff- and whirled, eye wide to discover me now standing behind his sentinels. Bron and Hart flinched and backed away. From me. And from Rhysand at my side. Lucien froze. I made my face a mirror of ice; the unfeeling twin to the cruel amusement on Rhysand's features as he picked at a fleck of lint on his dark tunic. Dark, elegant clothes- no wings, no fighting leathers. The unruffled, fine clothes... Another weapon. To hide just how skilled and powerful he was; to hide where he came from and what he loved. A weapon worth the cost of the magic he'd used to hide it- even if it put us at risk of being tracked.”

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“Little Lucien,' Rhys purred. 'Didn't the Lady of the Autumn Court ever tell you that when a woman says no, she means it?' 'Prick,' Lucien snarled, storming past his sentinels, but not daring to touch his weapons. 'You filthy, whoring prick.' I loosed a growl. Lucien's eyes sliced to me and he said with quiet horror, 'What have you done, Feyre?' 'Don't come looking for me again,' I said with equal softness. 'He'll never stop looking for you; never stop waiting for you to come home.' The words hit me in the gut- like they were meant to. It must have shown in my face because Lucien pressed, 'What did he do to you? Did he take your mind and-' 'Enough,' Rhys said, angling his head with that casual grace. 'Feyre and I are busy. Go back to your lands before I send your heads as a reminder to my old friend about what happens when Spring Court flunkies set foot in my territory.' The freezing rain slid down the neck of my clothes, down my back. Lucien's face was deathly pale. 'You made your point, Feyre- now come home.' 'I'm not a child playing games,' I said through my teeth. That's how they'd seen me: in need of coddling, explaining, defending... 'Careful, Lucien,' Rhysand drawled. 'Or Feyre darling will send you back in pieces, too.”

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“I stared at the empty space where he'd been, waiting, waiting, not letting that expression off my face until a warm, strong finger traced a line down the edge of my right wing. It felt like- like having my ear breathed into. I shuddered, arching as a gasp came out of me. And then Rhys was in front of me, scanning my face, the wings behind me. 'How?' 'Shape-shifting,' I managed to say, watching the rain slide down his golden-tan face. And it was distracting enough that the talons, the wings, the rippling darkness faded, and I was left light and cold in my own skin. Shape-shifting... at the sight of part of the history, the male I had not really let myself remember. Shape-shifting- a gift from Tamlin that I had not wanted, or needed... until now. Rhys's eyes softened. 'That was a very convincing performance.' 'I gave him what he wanted to see,' I murmured.”

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“And maybe I was exhausted and broken, but I breathed, 'I killed them.' I hadn't said the words aloud since it had happened. Cassian's lips tightened. 'I know.' Not condemnation, not praise. But grim understanding. My hands slackened as another shuddering sob worked its way through me. 'It should have been me.' And there it was. Standing there under the cloudless sky, the winter sun beating on my head, nothing around me save for rock, no shadows in which to hide, nothing to cling to... There it was. Then darkness swept in, soothing, gentle darkness- no, shade- and a sweat-slicked male body halted before me. Gentle fingers lifted my chin until I looked up... at Rhysand's face. His wings had wrapped around us, cocooned us, the sunlight casting the membrane in gold and red. Beyond us, outside, in another world, maybe, the sound of steel on steel- Cassian and Azriel sparring- began. 'You will feel that way every day for the rest of your life,' Rhysand said. This close, I could smell the sweat on him the sea-and-citrus sent beneath it. His eyes were soft. I tried to look away, but he held my chin firm. 'And I know this because I have felt that way every day since my mother and sister were slaughtered and I had to bury them myself, and even retribution didn't fix it.' He wiped away the tears on one cheek, then another. 'You can either let it wreck you, let it get you killed like it nearly did with the Weaver, or you can learn to live with it.' For a long moment, I just stared at the open, calm face- maybe his true face, the one beneath all the masks he wore to keep his people safe. 'I'm sorry- about your family,' I rasped. 'I'm sorry I didn't find a way to spare you from what happened Under the Mountain,' Rhys said with equal quiet. 'From dying. From wanting to die.' I began to shake my head, but he said, 'I have two kinds of nightmares: the one when I'm again Amarantha's whore or my friends are... And the ones where I hear your neck snap and see the light leave your eyes.' I had no answer to that- to the tenor in his rich, deep voice. So I examined the tattoos on his chest and arms, the glow of his tan skin, so golden now that he was no longer caged inside that mountain. I stopped my perusal when I got to the vee of muscles that flowed beneath the waist of his leather pants.”

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“I took in that half grin, the chest I might have suggested I'd lick and had avoided looking at for the past four days, and halted a healthy distance away. 'One would think a High Lord would have more important things to do than pass notes back and forth at night.' 'I do have more important things to do,' he purred. 'But I find myself unable to resist the temptation. The same way you can't resist watching me whenever we're out. So territorial.' My mouth went a bit dry. But- flirting with him, fighting with him... It was so easy. Fun. Maybe I deserved both of those things. So I closed the distance between us, smoothly stepped past him, and said, 'You haven't been able to keep away from me since Calanmai, it seems.' Something rippled in his eyes that I couldn't place, but he flicked my nose- hard enough that I hissed and batted his hand away.”

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“Is that what got under your skin? That I shut you out, or that it was so easy for Tarquin to get in?' 'What got under my skin,' Rhys said, his breathing a bit uneven, 'is that you smiled at him.' The rest of the world faded to mist as the words sank in. 'You are jealous.' His shook his head, stalking to the little table against the far wall and knocking back a glass of amber liquid. He braced his hands on the table, the powerful muscles of his back quivering beneath his shirt as the shadow of those wings struggled to take form. 'I heard what you told him,' he said. 'That you thought it would be easy to fall in love with him. You meant it, too.' 'So?' It was the only thing I could think of to say. 'I was jealous- of that. That I'm not... that sort of person. For anyone. The Summer Court has always been neutral; they only showed backbone during those years Under the Mountain. I spared Tarquin's life because I'd heard how he wanted to even out the playing field between High Far and lesser faeries. I've been trying to do that for years. Unsuccessfully, but... I spared him for that alone. And Tarquin, with his neutral court... he will never have to worry about someone walking away because the threat against their life, their children's lives, will always be there. So, yes, I was jealous of him- because it will always be easy for him. And he will never know what it is to look up at the night sky and wish.”

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“Rhys followed that gaze. 'Her breasts are rather spectacular, aren't they? Delicious as ripe apples.' I fought the urge to scowl, and instead slid my attention to him, as indolently as he'd looked at me, at the others. 'Here I was, thinking you had a fascination with my mouth.' Delighted surprise lit Rhys' eyes, there and gone in a heartbeat.”

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“Like a strange rain, the water rose from the floor as I willed it to become like those stars Rhys had summoned in his blanket of darkness. I willed the droplets to separate until they hung around us, catching the light and sparkling like crystals on a chandelier. Rhys broke my stare to study them. 'I suggest,' he murmured, 'you not show Tarquin that little trick in the bedroom.' I sent each and every one of those droplets shooting for the High Lord's face. Too fast, too swiftly for him to shield. Some of them sprayed me as they ricocheted off him. But of us now soaking, Rhys gaped a bit- then smiled.”

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“Will he go to war Over me?' He knew who I meant. The hot temper that had been on Rhys's face moments before turned to lethal calm. 'I don't know.' 'I- I would go back. If it came to that, Rhysand. I'd go back, rather than make you fight.' He slid a still-wet hand into his pocket. 'Would you want to go back? Would going to war on your behalf make you love him again? Would that be a grand gesture to win you?' I swallowed hard. 'I'm tired of death. I wouldn't want to see anyone else die- least of all for me.' 'That doesn't answer my question.' 'No, I wouldn't want to go back. But I would. Pain and killing wouldn't win me.' Rhys stared at me for a moment longer, his face unreadable, before he strode to the door. He stopped with his fingers on the sea urchin-shaped handle. 'He locked you up because he knew- the bastard knew what a treasure you are. That you are worth more than land or gold or jewels. He knew, and wanted to keep you all to himself.' The words hit me, even as they soothed some jagged piece in my soul. 'He did- does love me, Rhysand.' 'The issue isn't whether he loved you, it's how much. Too much. Love can be a poison.' And then he was gone.”

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“I had been pleased with how I looked, and had again selected it for myself: my hair unbound and swept off my face with a headband of braided rose gold, my sleeveless, dusky-pink chiffon gown- tight in the chest and waist- the near twin to the purple one I'd worn this morning. Feminine, soft, pretty. I hadn't felt like those things in a long, long while. Hadn't wanted to. But here, being those things wouldn't earn me a ticket to a life of party planning. Here, I could be soft and lovely at sunset, and awaken in the morning to slide into Illyrian fighting leathers.”

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“Is it true that you left Tamlin because he locked you up in his house?' I tried to block out the memory, the terror and agony of my heart breaking apart. But I nodded. 'And is it true that you were saved from confinement by the Night Court?' I nodded again. Tarquin said, 'The Spring Court is my southern neighbour. I have tenuous ties with them. But unless asked, I will not mention that you were here.' Thief, liar, manipulator. I didn't deserve his alliance. But I bowed my head in thanks.”

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“I inclined my head slightly, and lowered my shield only long enough to say down the bond: To the dreams that are answered. A heartbeat later, a sensual caress trailed along my mental shields- a polite request. I let it drop, let him in, and his voice filled my head. To the huntresses who remember to reach back for those less fortunate- and water-wraiths who swim very, very fast.”

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“I saw a pretty shop across the Sidra the other day. It sold what looked to be lots of lacy little things. Am I allowed to buy that on your credit, too, or does that come out of my personal funds?' Those violet eyes again drifted to me. 'I'm not in the mood.' There was no humour, no mischief. I could go warm myself by a fire inside, but... He had stayed. And fought for me. Week after week, he'd fought for me, even when I had no reaction, even when I had barely been able to speak or bring myself to care if I lived or died or ate or starved. I couldn't leave him to his own dark thoughts, his own guilt. He'd shouldered them alone long enough. So I held his gaze. 'I never knew Illyrians were such morose drunks.' 'I'm not drunk- I'm drinking,' he said, his teeth flashing a bit. 'Again semantics,' I leaned back in my seat, wishing I'd brought my coat. 'Maybe you should have slept with Cresseida after all- so you could both be sad and lonely together.' 'So you're entitled to have as many bad days as you want, but I can't get a few hours?' 'Oh, take however long you want to mope. I was going to invite you to come shopping with me for said lacy little unmentionables, but... sit up here forever, if you have to.' He didn't respond. I went on, 'Maybe I'll send a few to Tarquin- with an offer to wear them for him if he forgives us. Maybe he'll take those blood rubies right back.' His mouth barely, barely tugged up at the corners. 'He'd see that as a taunt.' 'I gave him a few smiles and he handed over a family heirloom. I bet he'd give me the keys to his territory if I showed up wearing those undergarments.' 'Someone thinks mighty highly of herself.' 'Why shouldn't I? You seem to have difficulty not staring at me day and night.' There it was - a kernel of truth and a question. 'Am I supposed to deny,' he drawled, but something sparked in those eyes, 'That I find you attractive?' 'You've never said it.' 'I've told you many times, and quite frequently, how attractive I find you.' I shrugged, even as I thought of all those times- when I'd dismissed them as teasing compliments, nothing more. 'Well, maybe you should do a better job of it.' The gleam in his eyes turned into something predatory. A thrill went through me as he braced his powerful arms on the table and purred, 'Is that a challenge, Feyre?' I held that predator's gaze- the gaze of the most powerful male in Prythian. 'Is it?' His pupils flared. Gone was the quiet sadness, the isolated guilt. Only that lethal force- on me. On my mouth. On the bob of my throat as I tried to keep my breathing even. He said, slow and soft, 'Why don't we go down to that store right now, Feyre, so you can try on those lacy little things- so I can help you pick which ones to send to Tarquin.' My toes curled inside my fleece-lined slippers. Such a dangerous line we walked together.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I'm sorry.' I blinked. 'What do you possibly have to be sorry for?' 'His hands were shaking- as if in the aftermath of that fury at what Keir had called me, what he'd threatened. Perhaps he'd brought me here before heading home in order to have some privacy before his friends could interrupt. 'I shouldn't have let you go. Let you see that part of us. Of me.' I'd never seen him so raw, so... stumbling. 'I'm fine.' I didn't know what to make of what had been done. Both between us and to Keir. But it had been my choice. To play that role, to wear those clothes. To let him touch me. But... I said slowly, 'We knew what tonight would require of us. Please- please don't start protecting me. Not like that.' He knew what I meant. He'd protected me Under the Mountain, but that primal, male rage he'd just shown Keir... A shattered study splattered in paint flashed through my memory. Rhys rasped. 'I will never- never lock you up, force you to stay behind. But when he threatened you tonight, when he called you...' Whore. That's what they'd called him. For fifty years, they'd hissed it. I'd listened to Lucien spit the words in his face. Rhys released a jagged breath. 'It's hard to shut down my instincts.' Instincts. Just like... like someone else had instincts to protect, to hide me away. 'Then you should have prepared yourself better,' I snapped. 'You seemed to be going along just fine with it, until Keir said-' 'I will kill anyone who harms you,' Rhys snarled. 'I will kill them, and take a damn long time doing it.' He panted. 'Go ahead. Hate me- despise me for it.' 'You are my friend,' I said, and my voice broke on the word. I hated the tears that slipped down my face. I didn't even know why I was crying. Perhaps for the fact that it had felt real on that throne with him, even for a moment, and... and it likely hadn't been. Not for him. 'You're my friend- and I understand that you're High Lord. I understand that you will defend your true court, and punish threats against it. But I can't... I don't want you to stop telling me things, inviting me to do things, because of the threats against me.' Darkness rippled, and wings tore from his back. 'I am not him,' Rhys breathed. 'I will never be him, act like him. He locked you up and let you wither, and die.' 'He tried-' 'Stop comparing. Stop comparing me to him.' The words cut me short. I blinked. 'You think I don't know how stories get written- how this story will be written?' Rhys put his hands on his chest, his face more open, more anguished than I'd seen it. 'I am the dark lord, who stole away the bride of spring. I am a demon, and a nightmare, and I will meet a bad end. He is the golden prince- the hero who will get to keep you as his reward for not dying of stupidity and arrogance.' The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me. He'd admitted that to me Under the Mountain. But his words were kindling to my temper, to whatever pit of fear was yawning open inside of me. 'And what about my story?' I hissed. 'What about my reward? What about what I want?' 'What is it that you want, Feyre?' I had no answer. I didn't know. Not anymore. 'What is it that you want, Feyre?' I stayed silent. His laugh was bitter, soft. 'I thought so. Perhaps you should take some time to figure that out one of these days.' 'Perhaps I don't know what I want, but at least I don't hide what I am behind a mask,' I seethed. 'At least I let them see who I am, broken bits and all. Yes- it's to save your people. But what about the other masks, Rhys? What about letting your friends see your real face? But maybe it's easier not to. Because what if you did let someone in? And what if they saw everything, and still walked away? Who could blame them- who would want to bother with that sort of mess?' He flinched. The most powerful High Lord in history flinched. And I knew I'd hit hard- and deep. Too hard. Too deep. 'Rhys,' I said.”

ArgumentSorrySarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysProtectiveA Court Of Mist And FuryTamlin
Author:Sarah J. Maas
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“Feyre,' he said, his voice hoarse. As if he'd been screaming. 'Yes,' I said. He studied my face- the taloned hand at my throat. And released me immediately. I lay there, staring up at where he now knelt on the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. My traitorous eyes indeed dared to look lower than his chest- but my attention snagged on the twin tattoos on each of his knees: a towering mountain crowned by three stars. Beautiful- but brutal, somehow. 'You were having a nightmare,' I said, easing into a sitting position. Like some dam had been cracked open inside me, I glanced at my hand- and willed it to vanish into shadow. It did. Half a thought scattered the darkness again. His hands, however, still ended in long, black talons- and his feet... they ended in claws, too. The wings were out, slumped down behind him. And I wondered how close he'd been to fully shifting into that beast he'd once told me he hated. He lowered his hands, talons fading into fingers. 'I'm sorry.' 'That's why you're staying here, not at the House. You don't want others seeing this.' 'I normally keep it contained to my room. I'm sorry it woke you.' I fisted my hands in my lap to keep from touching him. 'How often does it happen?' Rhys's violet eyes met mine, and I knew the answer before he said, 'As often as you.' I swallowed hard. 'What did you dream of tonight?' He shook his head, looking toward the window- to where snow had dusted the nearby rooftops. 'There are memories from Under the Mountain, Feyre, that are best left unshared. Even with you.' He'd shared enough horrific things with me that they had to be... beyond nightmares, then. But I put a hand on his elbow, naked body and all. 'When you want to talk, let me know. I won't tell the others.' I made to slither off the bed, but he grabbed my hand, keeping it against his arm. 'Thank you.' I studied the hand, the ravaged face. Such pain lingered there- and exhaustion. The face he never let anyone see. I pushed up onto my knees and kissed his cheek, his skin warm and soft beneath my mouth. It was over before it started, but- but how many nights had I wanted someone to do the same for me? His eyes were a bit wide as I pulled away, and he didn't stop me as I eased off the bed. I was almost out the door when I turned back to him. Rhys still knelt, wings drooping across the white sheets, head bowed, his tattoos stark against his golden skin. A dark, fallen prince.”

TraumaSarah J MaasNightmareFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysSupportiveA Court Of Mist And FuryHaunted
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Rhys had already been gone by breakfast, though one of his notes had been on a bedside table. Thank you- for last night, was it had said. No pen to write a response. But I'd hunted down one anyway, and had written back, What do the tattooed stars and mountain on your knees mean? The paper had vanished a heartbeat later. When it hadn't returned, I'd dressed and gone to breakfast. I was halfway through my eggs and toast when the paper appeared beside my plate, neatly folded. That I will bow before no one and nothing but my crown. This time, a pen had appeared. I'd merely written back, So dramatic. And through our bond, on the other side of my mental shields, I could have sworn I heard his laugh.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“So, I wrote back, At least you make up for your shameless flirting by being one hell of a High Lord. He'd returned that evening, smirking like a cat, and had merely said 'One hell of a High Lord?' by way of greeting. I'd sent a bucket's worth of water splashing into his face. Rhys hadn't bothered to shield against it. And instead shook his wet hair like a dog, spraying me until I yelped and darted away. His laughter had chased me up the stairs.”

FunnyMessagesNotesSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryHigh Lord
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“You are young, child. You have much to learn about the ways of the world-' 'Do not,' Rhys said with deadly quiet, 'condescend to her.' The eldest queen- who was but a child to him, to his centuries of existence- had the good sense to look nervous at that tone. Rhys's eyes were glazed, his face as unforgiving as his voice as he went on, 'Do not insult Feyre for speaking with her heart, with compassion for those who cannot defend themselves, when you speak from only selfishness and cowardice.' The eldest stiffened. 'For the greater good-' 'Many atrocities,' Rhys purred, 'have been done in the name of the greater good.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“What's wrong?' His wings were nowhere to be seen, not even the shadow of them. 'I'm debating asking you to stay tomorrow.' I crossed my arms. 'I thought I was going.' Don't lock me up in this house, don't shove me aside- He ran a hand through his hair. 'What I ahve to be tomorrow, who I have to become, is not... it's not something I want you to see. How I will treat you, treat others...' 'The mask of the High Lord,' I said quietly. 'Yes.' He took a seat on the bottom step of the stairs. I remained in the centre of the foyer as I asked carefully. 'Why don't you want me to see that?' 'Because you've only started to look at me like I'm not a monster, and I can't stomach the idea of anything you see tomorrow, being beneath the mountain, putting you back into that place where I found you.' Beneath the mountain- underground. Yes, I'd forgotten that. Forgotten I'd see the court Amarantha had modelled her own after, that I'd be trapped beneath the earth... But with Cassian and Azriel, and Mor. With... him. I waited for the panic, the cold sweat. Neither came. 'Let me help. In whatever way I can.' Blackness shaded the starlight in those eyes. 'The role you will have to play is not a pleasant one.' 'I trust you,' I sat beside him on the stairs, close enough that the heat of his body warmed the chill night air clinging to my overcoat.”

TraumaSarah J MaasWorriedFeyreFeyre ArcheronContemplatingRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryDebating
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I pinched the rock-hard muscle of his forearm. Rhys flashed me a wicked grin before he titled down- Mountains and snow and trees and sun and utter free fall through wisps of cloud- A breathless scream came out of me as we plummeted. Throwing my arms around his neck was instinct. His low laugh ticked my nape. 'You're willing to brave my brand of darkness and put up one of your own, willing to go to a watery grave and take on the Weaver, but a little free fall makes you scream?' 'I'll leave you to rot next time you have a nightmare,' I hissed, my eyes still shut and body locked as he snapped out his wings to ease to a steady glide. 'No, you won't,' he crooned. 'You liked seeing me naked too much.' 'Prick.' His laugh rumbled again me. Eyes closed, the wind roaring like an animal, I adjusted my position, gripping him tighter.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“And then Rhysand appeared. He had released the damper on his power, on who he was. His power filled the throne room, the castle, the mountain. The world. It had no end and no beginning. No wings. No weapons. No sign of the warrior. Nothing but the elegant, cruel High Lord the world believed him to be. His hands were in his pockets, his black tunic seeming to gobble up the light. And on his head sat a crown of stars. No sign of the male who had been drinking on the roof; no sign of the fallen prince kneeling on his bed. The full impact of him threatened to sweep me away. Here- here was the most powerful High Lord ever born. The face of dreams and nightmares. Rhys's eyes met mine briefly from across the room as he strolled between the pillars. To the throne that was his by blood and sacrifice and might. My own blood sang at the power that thrummed from him, at the sheer beauty of him.”

PowerfulPowerSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronRhysandRhysA Court Of Mist And FuryHigh LordHigh Lord Of The Night Court
Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Rhysand whispered to me, his other hand now stroking the bare skin of my ribs in lazy indolent circles, 'Try not to let it go to your head.' I knew they could all hear it. So did he. I stared at their bowed heads, my heart hammering, but said with moonlight smoothness, 'What?' Rhys's breath caressed my ear, the twin to the breath he'd brushed against it merely an hour ago in the skies. 'That every male in here is contemplating what they'd be willing to give up in order to get that pretty, red mouth of yours on them.' I waited for the blush, the shyness, to creep in. But I was beautiful. I was strong. I had survived- triumphed. As Mor had survived in this horrible, poisoned house. So I smiled a bit, the first smile of my new mask. Let them see the pretty, red mouth, and my white, straight teeth. His hand slid higher up my thigh, the propriety touch of a male who knew he owned someone body and soul.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“But it seems true. Tamlin's pet is now owned by another master.' 'You should see how I make her beg,' Rhys murmured, nudging my neck with his nose. Keir clasped his hands behind his back, 'I assume you brought her here to make a statement.' 'You know everything I do is a statement.' 'Of course. This one, it seems, you enjoy putting in cobwebs and crowns.' Rhys's hand paused, and I sat straighter at the tone, the disgust. And I said to Keir in a voice that belonged to another woman, 'Perhaps I'll put a leash on you.' Rhys's approval tapped against my mental shield, the hand at my ribs now making lazy circles. 'She does enjoy playing,' he mused onto my shoulder.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“I let my head drop back against his shoulder. I let go of the part of me that heard their words- whore, whore, whore- Let go of the part that said those words alongside them- traitor, liar, whore- And I just became. I became the music, and the drums, and the wild, dark thing in the High Lord's arms. His eyes were wholly glazed- and not with power or rage. Something red-hot and edged with glittering darkness exploded in my mind.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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