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Sarah J. Maas

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“I'm sorry.' It was those two words that shattered me. Shattered me in a way I didn't know I could still be broken, a rending of every tether and leash. Stay with the High Lord. The Suriel's last warning. Stay... and live to see everything righted. A lie. A lie, as Rhys had lied to me. Stay with the High Lord. Stay. For there... the torn scraps of the mating bond. Floating on a phantom wind inside me. I grasped at them- tugged at them, as if he'd answer. Stay. Stay, stay, stay. I clung to those scraps and remnants, clawing at the voice that lurked beyond. Stay. I looked up at Tarquin, lip curling back from my teeth. Looked at Helion. And Thesan. And Beon and Kallias, Viviane weeping at his side. And I snarkled, 'Bring him back.' Blank faces. I screamed at them, 'BRING HIM BACK.' Nothing. 'You did it for me,' I said, breathing hard. 'Now do it for him.' 'You were human,' Helion said carefully. 'It is not the same-' 'I don't care. Do it.' When they didn't move, I rallied the dregs of my power, readying to rip into their minds and force them, not caring what rules or laws it broke. I wouldn't care, only if- Tarquin stepped forward. He slowly extended his hand toward me. 'For what he gave,' Tarquin said quietly. 'Today and for many years before.' And as the seed of light appeared in his palm... I began crying again. Watched it drop onto Rhys's bare throat and vanish onto the skin beneath, an echo of light flaring once. Helion stepped forward. That kernel of light in his hand flickered as it fell onto Rhys's skin. Then Kallias. And Thesan. Until only Beron stood there. Mor drew her sword and laid it on his throat. He jerked, having not seen her move. 'I do not mind making one more kill today,' she said. Beron gave her a withering glare, but shoved off the sword and strode forward. He practically chucked that fleck of light onto Rhys. I didn't care about that, either. I didn't know the spell, the power it came from. But I was High Lady. I held out my palm. Willing the spark of life to appear. Nothing happened. I took a steadying breath, remembering how it had looked. 'Tell me how,' I growled to no one. Thesan coughed and stepped forward. Explaining the core of power and on and on and I didn't care, but I listened, until- There. Small as a sunflower seed, it appeared in my palm. A bit of me- my life. I laid it gently on Rhys's blood-crusted throat. And I realised, just as he appeared, what was missing. Tamlin stood there, summoned by either the death of a fellow High Lord or one of the others around me. He was splattered in mud and gore, his new bandolier of knives mostly empty. He studied Rhys, lifeless before me. Studied all of us- the palms still out. There was no kindness on his face. No mercy. 'Please,' was all I said to him. Then Tamlin glanced between us- me and my mate. His face did not change. 'Please,' I wept. 'I will- I will give you anything-' Something shifted in his eyes at that. But not kindness. No emotion at all. I laid my head on Rhysand's chest, listening for any kind of heartbeat through that armour. 'Anything,' I breathed to no one in particular. 'Anything.' Steps scuffed on the rocky ground. I braced myself for another set of hands trying to pull me away, and dug my fingers in harder. The steps remained behind me for long enough that I looked. Tamlin stood there. Staring down at me. Those green eyes swimming with some emotion I couldn't place. 'Be happy, Feyre,' he said quietly. And dropped that final kernel of light onto Rhysand.”

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Book:A Court of Wings and Ruin
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“I had only silence in my head. Only silence, as I began screaming. Screaming and screaming and screaming. The emptiness in my chest, my soul at the lack of that bond, that life- I was shaking him, screaming his name and shaking him, and my body stopped being my body and just became this thing that held me and this lack of him, and I could not stop screaming and screaming-”

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“When I was back at the Spring Court...' I swallowed. 'I looked- for their wings.' Rhys went utterly still, and I took his hand, squeezing hard as he only said, 'Did you find them?' The words were barely a brush of air. I shook my head, but said before the grief on his face could grow, 'I learned that he burned them- long ago.' Rhys said nothing for a lingering moment, his attention returning to the stars. 'Thank you for even thinking- for risking to look for them.' The only trace- the horrific remnants- of his mother and sister. 'I didn't... I'm glad he burned them,' Rhys admitted. 'I could happily kill him, for so many things, and yet...' He rubbed his chest. 'I'm glad he offered them that peace, at least.”

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“His face paled, and he stroked a hand down the mare's cobweb-coloured mane. 'I was forced to watch as my father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch.' My heart tightened for him- for the pain that haunted him. 'There was no magic spell, no miracle to bring her back. There were no gathered High Lords to resurrect her. I watched, and she died, and I will never forget that moment when I heard her heart stop beating.' My eyes burned. 'Tamlin got what I didn't,' Lucien said softly, his breathing ragged. 'We all heard your neck break. But you got to come back. And I doubt that he will ever forget that sound, either. And he will do everything in his power to protect you from that danger again, even if it means keeping secrets, even if it means sticking to rules you don't like. In this, he will not bend. So don't ask him to- not yet.' I had no words in my head, my heart. Giving Tamlin time, letting him adjust... It was the least I could do.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Feyre,' he said- softly enough that I faced him again. 'Why?' He tilted his head to the side. 'You dislike our kind on a good day. And after Andras...' Even in the darkened hallway, his usually bright eyes were shadowed. 'So why?' I took a step closer to him, my blood-covered feet sticking to the rug. I glanced down the stairs to where I could still see the prone form of the faerie and the stumps of his wings. 'Because I wouldn't want to die alone,' I said, and my voice wobbled as I looked at Tamlin again, forcing myself to meet his stare. 'Because I'd want someone to hold my hand until the end, and awhile after that. That's something everyone deserves, human or faerie.' I swallowed hard, my throat painfully tight. 'I regret what I did to Andras,' I said, the words so strangled they were no more than a whisper. 'I regret that there was... such hate in my heart. I wish I could undo it- and... I'm sorry. So very sorry.' I couldn't remember the last time- if ever- I'd spoken to anyone like that. But he just nodded and turned away, and I wondered if I should say more, if I should kneel and beg for his forgiveness. If he felt such grief, such guilt, over a stranger, than Andras... By the time I opened my mouth, he was already down the steps. I watched him- watched every movement he made, the muscles of his body visible through that blood-soaked tunic, watched that invisible weight bearing down on his shoulders. He didn't look at me as he scooped up the broken body and carried it to the garden doors beyond my line of sight. I went to the window at the top of the stairs, watching as Tamlin carried the faerie through the moonlit garden and into the rolling fields beyond. He never once glanced back.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“I love you,' he said. And if I hadn't already believed him, felt it in my very bones, the light in his face as he said the words... Tears burned my eyes again, slipping free before I could control myself. Rhys leaned in to lick them away. One after another. As he'd once done Under the Mountain. 'You have a choice,' he murmured against my cheekbone. 'Either I lick every inch of you clean...' His hand grazed the tip of my breast, circling lazily. As if we had days and days to do this. 'Or you can get into the bath that should be ready by now.' I pulled away, lifting a brow. 'Are you suggesting that I smell?' Rhys smirked, and I could have sworn my core pounded in answer. 'Never. But...' His eyes darkened, the desire and amusement fading as he took in my clothes. 'There is blood on you. Yours and others'. I thought I'd be a good mate and offer you a bath before I ravish you wholly.”

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“I couldn't come up with any words when we arrived- and knew that even if I had been able to paint it, nothing would have done it justice. It wasn't simply that it was the most beautiful place I'd ever been to, or that it filled me with both longing and mirth, but it just seemed... right. As if the colours and lights and patterns of the world had come together to form one perfect place- one true bit of beauty. After last night, it was exactly where I needed to be. We sat atop a grassy knoll, overlooking a glade of oaks so wide and high they could have been the pillars and spires of an ancient castle. Shimmering tufts of dandelion fluff drifted by, and the floor of the clearing was carpeted with swaying crocuses and snowdrops and bluebells. It was an hour or two past noon by the time we arrived, but the light was thick and golden. Though the three of us were alone, I could have sworn I heard singing. I hugged my knees and drank in the glen.”

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“My mouth went paper-dry as Alis fluffed out the sparkling train of my gown in the shadow of the garden doors. Silk and gossamer rustled and sighed, and I gripped the pale bouquet in my gloved hands, nearly snapping the stems. Elbow-length silk gloves- to hide the marking. Ianthe had delivered them herself this morning in a velvet-lined box. 'Don't be nervous,' Alis chuckled, her tree-bark skin rich and flushed in the honey gold evening light. 'I'm not,' I rasped. 'You're fidgeting like my youngest nephew during a haircut.' She finished fussing over my dress, shooing away some servants who'd come to spy on me before the ceremony. I pretended I didn't see them or the glittering, sunset-gilded crowd seated in the courtyard ahead, and toyed with some invisible fleck on my skirts. 'You look beautiful,' Alis said quietly. I was fairly certain her thoughts on the dress were the same as my own, but I believed her. 'Thank you.' 'And you sound like you're going to your funeral.' I plastered a grin on my face. Alis rolled her eyes. But she nudged me toward the doors as they opened on some immortal wind, lilting music streaming in. 'It's be over faster than you can blink,' she promised, and gently nudged me into the last of the sunlight.”

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“I could feel the full weight of Tamlin's undivided attention on me- on every breath and movement I took. I studied the candelabras atop the mantel beside the table. I had nothing to say that didn't sound absurd- yet for some reason, my mouth decided to start moving. 'You're so far away.' I gestured to the expanse of table between us. 'It's like you're in another room.' The quarters of the table vanished, leaving Tamlin not two feet away, sitting at an infinitely more intimate table. I yelped and almost tipped over in my chair. He laughed as I gaped at the small table that now stood between us. 'Better?' he asked. I ignored the metallic tang of magic as I said, 'How... how did you do that? Where did it go?' He cocked his head. 'Between. Think of it as... a broom closet tucked between pockets of the world.' He flexed his hands and rolled his neck, as if shaking off some pain. 'Does it tax you?' Sweat seemed to gleam on the strong column of his neck. He stopped flexing his hands and set them flat on the table. 'Once, it was an easy as breathing. But now... it requires concentration.' Because of the blight on Prythian and the toll it had taken on him. 'You could have just taken a closer seat,' I said. Tamlin gave me a lazy grin. 'And miss a chance to show off to a beautiful woman? Never.' I smiled down at my plate.' 'You do look beautiful,' he said quietly. 'I mean it,' he added when my mouth twisted to the side. 'Didn't you look in the mirror?' Though his bruise still marred my neck, I had looked pretty. Feminine. I wouldn't go so far to call myself a beauty, but... I hadn't cringed. A few months here had done wonders for the awkward sharpness and angles of my face. And I dared say that some kind of light had crept in to my eyes- my eyes, not my mother's eyes or Nesta's eyes. Mine.”

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“I walked to the painting on the easel. It was an impression, not a lifelike rendering. 'I wanted you to see this one,' I said, pointing to the smear of green and gold and silver and blue. 'It's for you. A gift. For everything you've done.' Heat flared in my cheeks, my neck, my ears, as he silently approached the painting. 'It's the glen- with the pool of starlight,' I said quickly. 'I know what it is,' he murmured, studying the painting. I backed away a step, unable to bear watching him look at it, wishing I hadn't brought him in here, blaming it on the wine I'd had at dinner, on the stupid dress. He examined the painting for a miserable eternity, then looked away- to the nearest painting leaning against the wall. My gut tightened. A hazy landscape of snow and skeletal trees and nothing else. It looked like.... like nothing, I supposed, to anyone but me. I opened my mouth to explain, wishing I'd turned the others away from view, but he spoke. 'That was your forest. Where you hunted.' He came close to the painting, gazing at the bleak, empty cold, the white and grey and brown and black. 'This was your life,' he clarified. I was too mortified, too stunned, to reply. He walked to the next painting I'd left against the wall. Darkness and dense brown, flickers of ruby red and orange squeezing between them. 'Your cottage at night.' I tried to move, to tell him to stop looking at those ones and look at the others I'd laid out, but I couldn't- couldn't even breathe properly as he moved to the next painting. A tanned, sturdy male hand fisted in the hay, the pale pieces of it entwined among strands of brown coated with gold- my hair. My gut twisted. 'The man you used to see- in your village.' He cocked his head again as he studied the picture, and a low growl slipped out. 'While you made love.' He stepped back, looking at the row of pictures. 'This is the only one with brightness.' Was that... jealousy? 'It was the only escape I had.' Truth. I wouldn't apologise for Issac. Not when Tamlin had just been in the Great Rite. I didn't hold that against him- but if he was going to be jealous of Issac- Tamlin must have realised it, too, for he loosed a long, controlled breath before moving to the next painting. Tall shadows of men, bright red dripping off their fists, off their wooden clubs, hovering and filling the edges of the painting as they towered over the curled figure on the floor, the blood leaking from him, the leg at a wrong angle. Tamlin swore. 'You were there when they wrecked your father's leg.' 'Someone had to beg them to stop.' Tamlin threw a too-knowing glance in my direction and turned to look at the rest of the paintings. There they were, all the wounds I'd slowly been leeching these few months. I blinked. A few months. Did my family believe that I would be forever away with this so-called dying aunt? At last, Tamlin looked at the painting of the glen and the starlight. He nodded in appreciation. But he pointed to the painting of the snow-veiled woods. 'That one. I want that one.' 'It's cold and melancholy,' I said, hiding my wince. 'It doesn't suit this place at all.' He went up to it, and the smile he gave me was more beautiful than any enchanted meadow or pool of stars. 'I want it nonetheless,' he said softly.”

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“What now?' Wordlessly, he took the soap from my hands and turned me, rubbing down my back, scrubbing lightly with the cloth. 'It's up to you,' Rhys said. 'We can go back to Velaris and have the bond verified by a priestess- no one like Ianthe, I promise- and be declared officially Mated. We could have a small party to celebrate- dinner with our... cohorts. Unless you'd rather have a large party, though I think you and I are in agreement about our aversion for them.' His strong hands kneaded muscles that were tight and aching in my back, and I groaned. 'We could also go before a priestess and be declared husband and wife as well as mates, if you want a more human thing to call me.' 'What will you call me?' 'Mate,' he said. 'Though also calling you my wife sounds mighty appealing, too.' His thumbs massaged the column of my spine. 'Of if you want to wait, we can do none of those things. We're mated, whether it's shouted across the world or not. There's no rush to decide.' I turned, 'I was asking about Jurian, the king, the queens, and the Cauldron, but I'm glad to know I have so many options where our relationship stands. And that you'll do whatever I want. I must have you wrapped completely around my finger.' His eyes danced with feline amusement. 'Cruel, beautiful thing.' I snorted. The idea that he found me beautiful at all- 'You are,' he said. 'You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I thought that from the first moment I saw you on Calanmai.'' And it was stupid, stupid for beauty to mean anything at all, but... My eyes burned. 'Which is good,' he added, 'because you thought I was the most beautiful make you'd ever seen. So it makes us even.”

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“What do you care?" I barked, and his grip tightened enough on my wrists that I knew my bones would snap with a little more pressure. "What do I care?" he breathed, wrath twisting his features. Wings - those membranous, glorious wings - flared from his back, crafted from the shadows behind him. "What do I care?" But before he could go on, his head snapped to the door, then back to my face. The wings vanished as quickly as they had appeared, and then his lips were crushing into mine. His tongue pried my mouth open, forcing himself into me, into the space where I could still taste Tamlin. I pushed and trashed, but he held firm, his tongue sweeping over the roof of my mouth, against my teeth, claiming me - The door was flung wide, and Amarantha's curved figure filled its space. Tamlin - Tamlin was beside her, his eyes slightly wide, shoulders tight as Rhys's lips still crushed mine. Amarantha laughed, and a mask of stone slammed down on Tamlin's face. void of feeling, void of anything vaguely like the Tamlin I'd been tangled up with moments before.”

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“He opened an eye and smiled lazily at me. 'That willow's singing always puts me to sleep.' 'The what of what?' I said, propping myself on my elbows to stare at the tree above us.' Tamlin pointed toward the willow. The branches sighed as they moved in the breeze. 'It sings.' 'I suppose it sings war-camp limericks, too?' He smiled and half sat up, twisting to look at me. 'You're human,' he said and I rolled my eyes. 'Your senses are still sealed off from everything.' I made a face. 'Just another of my many shortcomings.' But the word- shortcomings- had somehow stopped finding its mark. He plucked a strand of grass from my hair. Heat radiated from my face as his fingers grazed my cheek. 'I could make you able to see it,' he said. His fingers lingered at the end of my braid, twirling the curl of hair around. 'See my world- hear it, smell it.' My breathing became shallow as he sat up. 'Taste it.' His eyes flicked to the fading bruise on my neck. 'How?' I asked, heat blooming as he crouched before me. 'Every gift comes with a price.' I frowned, and he grinned. 'A kiss.' 'Absolutely not!' But my blood raced, and I had to clench my hands in the grass to keep from touching him. 'Don't you think it puts me at a disadvantage to not be able to see all this?' 'I'm one of the High Fae- we don't give anything without gaining something from it.' To my own surprise, I said, 'Fine.' He blinked, probably expecting me to have fought a little harder. I hid my smile and sat up so that I faced him, our knees touching as we knelt in the grass. I licked my lips, my heart fluttering so quickly it felt as if I had a hummingbird inside my chest. 'Close your eyes,' he said, and I obeyed, my fingers grappling onto the grass. The birds chattered, and the willow branches sighed. The grass crunched as Tamlin rose up on his knees. I braced myself at the brush of his mouth on one of my eyelids, then on the other. He pulled away, and I was left breathless, the kisses still lingering on my skin.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“What about your part of the bargain?' 'What?' He leaned closer, his smile turning wicked. 'What about my kiss?' I grabbed his fingers. 'Here,' I said, and slammed my mouth against the back of his hand. 'There's your kiss.' Tamlin roared with laughter, but the world blurred, lulling me to sleep.”

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“I twisted, studying his face. There was nothing warm in his eyes, nothing of the friend I'd made. I opened my shield enough to let him in. What? His voice floated into my mind. I reached down the bond between us, caressing the wall of ebony adamant. A small sliver cracked- just for me. And I said into it, You are good, Rhys. You are kind. This mask does not scare me. I see you beneath it. His hands tightened on me, and his eyes held mine as he leaned forward to brush his mouth against my cheek. It was answer enough- and... an unleashing.”

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“The wave vanished. Sunlight. A crunch of boots before me, the heat and whisper of mighty wings. A hand on my face, tilting up my chin as I stared and stared at the splattered ruin of the Attor. Violet eyes met mine. Rhys. Rhys was here. And... and I had... He leaned forward, his brow sweat-coated, his breathing uneven. He gently pressed a kiss to my mouth. To remind us both. Who we were, what we were. My icy heart thawed, the fire in my gut was soothed by a tendril of dark, and the water trickled out of my veins and back into the Sidra. Rhys pulled back, his thumb stroking my cheek. People were weeping. Keening. But no more screams of terror. No more bloodshed and destruction. My mate murmured, 'Feyre Cursebreaker, the Defender of the Rainbow.' I slid my arms around his waist and sobbed. And even as his city wailed, the High Lord of the Night Court held me until I could at last face this blood-drenched new world.”

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“You are- you're everything to me,' he said thickly. 'I need... I need you to be all right. To know they can't get to you- can't hurt you anymore.' 'I know.' Those fingers drifted lower. I swallowed hard and said again, 'I know.' I brushed his hair back from his face. 'But what about you? Who gets to keep you safe?' His mouth tightened. With his powers returned, he didn't need anyone to protect him, shield him. I could almost see invisible hackles raising- not at me, but at the thought of what he'd been mere months ago: prone to Amarantha's whims, his power barely a trickle compared to the cascade now coursing through him. He took a steadying breath, and leaned to kiss my heart, right between my breasts. It was answer enough. 'Soon,' he murmured, and those fingers travelled back to my waist. I almost groaned. 'Soon you'll be my wife, and it'll be fine. We'll leave all this behind us.”

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“Rhys didn't dare break from his mask, but the light kiss he pressed beneath my ear told me enough. Apology and gratitude- and more apologies. He didn't like this any more than I did. And yet to get what we needed, to buy Azriel time... He'd do it. And so would I. I wondered then, with his hands beneath my breasts and between my legs, what Rhys wouldn't give of himself. Wondered if... if perhaps the arrogance and swagger... if they masked a male who perhaps thought he wasn't worth very much at all.”

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“Every gift comes with a price.” I frowned, and he grinned. “A kiss.” “Absolutely not!” But my blood raced, and I had to clench my hands in the grass to keep from touching him. “Don’t you think it puts me at a disadvantage to not be able to see all this?” “I’m one of the High Fae—we don’t give anything without gaining something from it.” To my own surprise, I said, “Fine.” He blinked, probably expecting me to have fought a little harder. I hid my smile and sat up so that I faced him, our knees touching as we knelt in the grass. “What about your part of the bargain?” “What?” He leaned closer, his smile turning wicked. “What about my kiss?” I grabbed his fingers. “Here,” I said, and slammed my mouth against the back of his hand. “There’s your kiss.”

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“You murdered my friend,' the beast snarled. 'Murdered him, skinned his corpse, sold it at the market, and then said he deserved it, and yet you have the nerve to question my generosity?' How typically human, he seemed to silently add. 'You didn't need to mention the loophole.' I stepped so close the faerie's breath heated my face. Faerie's couldn't lie, but they could omit information. The beast snarled again. 'Foolish of me to forget that humans have such low opinions of us. Do you humans no longer understand mercy?' he said, his fangs inches from my throat.”

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“She has the most delicious thoughts about you, Tamlin,” he said. “She’s wondered about the feeling of your fingers on her thighs—between them, too.” He chuckled. Even as he said my most private thoughts, even as I burned with outrage and shame, I trembled at the grip still on my mind. Rhysand turned to the High Lord. “I’m curious: Why did she wonder if it would feel good to have you bite her breast the way you bit her neck?” “Let. Her. Go.” Tamlin’s face was twisted with such feral rage that it struck a different, deeper chord of terror in me. “If it’s any consolation,” Rhysand confided to him, “she would have been the one for you—and you might have gotten away with it. A bit late, though. She’s more stubborn than you are.”

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“Rhys said softly from behind me, 'I would be happy beyond reason, though, if you one day did honour me with children. To share that with you.' I turned back to him. 'I want to live first,' I said. 'With you. I want to see things and have adventures. I want to learn what it is to be immortal, to be your mate, to be part of your family. I want to be... ready for them. And I selfishly want to have you all to myself for a while.' His smile was gentle, sweet. 'You take all the time you need. And if I get you all to myself for the rest of eternity, then I won't mind that at all.”

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“If I am a High Lord's mate, I'm expected to bear you offspring, aren't I? So perhaps I shouldn't.' 'You are not expected to bear me anything,' he snarled. 'Children are rare, yes. So rare, and so precious. But I don't want you to have them unless you want to- unless we both want to. And right now, with this war coming, with Hybern... I'll admit that I'm terrified at the thought of my mate being pregnant with so many enemies around us. I'm terrified of what I might do if you're pregnant and threatened. Or harmed.”

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“Mercifully, Rhys was half-awake, the layers I'd thrown on him now scattered across the blanket, and he gave me a strained smile as I entered. I chucked the weed at him, showering his bare chest with soil. 'Chew on that.' He blinked blearily at me. Mate. But he obeyed, frowning at the plant before he plucked off a few leaves and started chewing. He grimaced as he swallowed. I tore off my jacket, shoved up my sleeve, and strode to him. He'd known, and kept it from me. Had the others known? Had they guessed? He'd- he'd promised not to lie, not to keep things from me. And this- the most important thing in my immortal existence... I drew a dagger across my forearm, the cut long and deep, and dropped to my knees before him. I didn't feel the pain. 'Drink this. Now.' Rhys blinked again, brows raising, but I didn't give him the chance to object before I gripped the back of his head, lifted my arm to his mouth, and shoved him against my skin. He paused as my blood touched his lips. Then his mouth opened wider, his tongue brushing my arm as he sucked in my blood. One mouthful. Two. Three. I yanked back my arm, the wound already healing, and shoved down my sleeve.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“One shot- one shot straight through that golden eye. A plume of blood splattering the snow, a thud of a heavy body, a sigh of wind. No. It wasn't a wolf that hit the snow- no, it was a man, tall, and well formed. No- not a man. A High Fae, with those pointed ears. I blinked, and then- then my hands were warm and sticky with blood, then his body was red and skinless, steaming in the cold, and it was his skin- his skin- that I held in my hands, and-”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“I'd taken to situating myself in one of the little lounges overlooking the mountains, and had almost read an entire book in the deep-cushioned armchair, going slowly as I learned new words. But it had filled my time- given me quiet, steadfast company with those characters, who did not exist and never would, but somehow made me feel less... alone.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“My throat closed up, and I read and read and read, but no words came. The air became thick and stank of metal- not magic but burning, unforgiving steel creeping toward me, inch by inch. 'Answer it!' Lucien shouted, his voice hitched. My eyes stung. The world was just a blur of letters, mocking me with their turns and shapes.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Her name was Andromache. And she was... so beautiful. And kind. And I loved her... so much.' Human. Andromache had been human. My eyes burned. 'But she was human. And a queen- who needed to continue her royal line, especially during such a tumultuous time. So I left- went home after the last battle. And when I realised what a mistake it was, that I didn't care if I only had sixty more years with her... The wall went up that day.' A small sob came out of her. 'And I could not... I was not allowed or able to cross it. I tried. For three years, I tried over and over. And by the time I managed to find a hole to cross... She had married. A man. And had an infant daughter- with another on the way. I didn't set foot inside her castle. Didn't even try to see her. I just turned around and went home.' 'I'm so sorry,' I breathed, my voice breaking. 'She bore five children. And died an old woman, safe in her bed. And I saw her spirit again- in that golden queen. Her descendent.”

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Book:A Court of Wings and Ruin
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“Tamlin won't allow it.' 'Tamlin isn't your keeper, and you know it.' 'I'm his subject, and he is my High Lord...' 'You are no one's subject.' I went rigid at the flash of teeth, the smoke-like wings that flared out. 'I will say this once- and only once,' Rhysand purred, stalking to the map on the wall. 'You can be a pawn, be someone's reward, and spend the rest of your immortal life bowing and scraping and pretending you're less than him, than Ianthe, than any of us. If you want to pick that road, then fine. A shame, but it's your choice.' The shadow of wings rippled again. 'But I know you- more than you realise, I think- and I don't believe for one damn minute that you're remotely fine with being a pretty trophy for someone who sat on his ass for nearly fifty years, then set on his ass while you were shredded apart-' 'Stop it-' 'Or,' he plowed ahead, 'you've got another choice. You can master whatever powers we gave you, and make it count. You can play a role in this war. Because war is coming one way or another.' ... 'Think it over. Take the week. Ask Tamlin, if it'll make you sleep better. See what charming Ianthe says about it. But it's your choice to make- no one else's.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“The way I see things, Feyre, you have two options. The first, and the smartest, would be to accept my offer.' I spat at his feet, but he kept pacing, only giving me a disapproving look. 'The second option- and the one only a fool would take- would be for you to refuse my offer and place your life, and thus Tamlin's, in the hands of chance.' He stopped pacing and stared hard at me. Though the world spun and danced in my vision, something primal inside me went still and cold beneath that gaze. 'Let's say I walk out of here. Perhaps Lucien will come to your aid within five minutes of my leaving. Perhaps he'll come in five days. Perhaps he won't come at all. Between you and me, he's been keeping a low profile after his rather embarrassing outburst at your trial. Amarantha's not exactly pleased with him. Tamlin even broke his delightful brooding to beg for him to be spared- such a noble warrior, your High Lord. She listened, of course- but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien's punishment. Twenty lashes.' I started shaking, sick all over again to think about what it had to have been like for my High Lord to be the one to punish his friend. Rhysand shrugged, a beautiful, easy gesture. 'So, it's really a question of how much you're willing to trust Lucien- and how much you're willing to risk for it. Already you're wondering if that fever of yours is the first sign of infection. Perhaps they're unconnected, perhaps not. Maybe it's fine. Maybe that worm's mud isn't full of festering filth. And maybe Amarantha will send a healer, and by that time, you'll either be dead, or they'll find your arm so infected that you'll be lucky to keep anything above the elbow.' My stomach tightened into a painful ball. 'I don't need to invade your thoughts to know these things. I already know what you've slowly been realising.' He again crouched in front of me. 'You're dying.' My eyes stung and I sucked my lips into my mouth. 'How much are you willing to risk on the hope that another form of help will come?' I stared at him, sending as much hate as I could into my gaze. He'd been the one who'd caused all this. He'd told Amarantha about Clare, he'd made Tamlin beg. 'Well?' I bared my teeth. 'Go. TO. Hell.' Swift as lightning, he lashed out, grabbing the shard of bone in my arm and twisting. A scream shattered out of me, ravaging my aching throat. The world flashed black and white and red. I thrashed and writhed but he kept his grip, twisting the bone a final time before releasing my arm. Panting, half sobbing as the pain reverberated through my body, I found him smirking at me again. I spat in his face. He only laughed as he stood, wiping his cheek with the dark sleeve of his tunic. 'This is the last time I'll extend my assistance,' he said pausing by the cell door. 'Once I leave this cell, my offer is dead.' I spat again, and he shook his head. 'I bet you'll be spitting on Death's face when she comes to claim you, too.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Do you know the answer to the riddle?' He crossed his arms. 'Cheating, are you?' 'She never said I couldn't ask for help.' 'Ah, but after she had you beaten to hell, she ordered us not to help you.' I waited. But he shook his head. 'Even if I felt like helping you, I couldn't. She gives the order, and we all bow to it.' He picked a fleck of dust off his black jacket. 'It's a good thing she likes me, isn't it?' I opened my mouth to press him- to beg him. If it meant instantaneous freedom- 'Don't waste your breath,' he said. 'I can't tell you- no one here can. If she ordered us all to stop breathing, we would have to obey that, too.' He frowned at me and snapped his fingers. The soot, the dirt, the ash vanished off my skin, leaving me as clean as if I'd bathed. 'There. A gift- for having the balls to even ask.' I gave him a flat stare, but he motioned to the hearth. It was spotless- and my bucket was filled with lentils.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Once, I had dreaded that first snow, had lived in terror of long, brutal winters. But it had been a long, brutal winter that had brought me so deep into the woods that day nearly two years ago. A long, brutal winter that had made me desperate enough to kill a wolf, that had eventually led me here- to this life, this... happiness.”

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Book:A Court of Wings and Ruin
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“I scrubbed at my face. Perhaps it was the quiet, the hollowness of the past few days- perhaps it was only that I no longer had to think hour to hour about how to keep my family alive, but... it was regret, and maybe shame, that coated my tongue, my bones. I shuddered, as if I could fling it off, and kicked back the sheets to rise from the bed.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“You were always too good for here, Feyre. Too good for us, too good for everyone.' He squeezed my hands. 'If you ever escape, ever convince them that you've paid the debt, don't return.' I hadn't expected a heart-wrenching good-bye, but I hadn't imagined this, either. 'Don't ever come back,' my father said, releasing my hands to shake me by the shoulders. 'Feyre.' He stumbled over my name, his throat bobbing. 'You go somewhere new- and you make a name for yourself.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“I looked at him finally. His membranous wings were out- tucked behind him- but his hands and feet were normal, no talons in sight. 'What do you want?' It didn't come out with the snap I'd intended. Not as I remembered how he'd fought, again and again, to attack Amarantha, to save me. 'Just to say good-bye.' A warm breeze ruffled his hair, brushing tendrils of darkness off his shoulders. 'Before your beloved whisks you away forever.' 'Not forever,' I said, wiggling my tattooed fingers for him to see. 'Don't you get a week every month?' Those words, thankfully, came out frosty. Rhys smiled slightly, his wings rustling and then settling. 'How could I forget?”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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