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Sarah J. Maas

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Famous Sarah J. Maas Quotes

“The black water nipping at her thrashing heels was freezing. Not the bite of winter chill, or even the burn of solid ice, but something colder. Deeper. The cold of the gaps between stars, teh cold of a world before light. The cold of hell- true hell, she realised as she bucked against the strong hands trying to shove her into the Cauldron. True hell, because that was Elain lying on the stone floor with the red-haired, one-eyed Fae male hovering over her. Because those were pointed ears poking through her sister's sodden gold-brown hair, and an immortal glow radiating from Elain's fair skin. True hell- worse than the inky depths mere inches from her toes.”

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“Nesta only lifted her chin. 'I...' I'd never seen her stumble for words. 'I do not want to be remembered as a coward.' 'No one would say that,' I offered quietly. 'I would,' Nesta surveyed us all, her gaze jumping past Cassian. Not to slight him, but... avoid answering the look he was giving her. Approval- more. 'It was some distant thing,' she said. 'War. Battle. It... it's not anymore. I will help, if I can. If it means... telling them what happened.' ... 'You went off to battle for a court you barely know- who barely see you as friends. Amren showed me the blood ruby. And when I asked you why... you said because it was the right thing. People need help.' Her throat bobbed. 'No one is going to fight to save the humans beneath the wall. No one cares. But I do.' She toyed with a fold in her dress. 'I do.”

WarCareSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronCowardiceNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Wings And RuinAmren
Book:A Court of Wings and Ruin
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“Nesta braced her hands on the arms of his chair as she brushed a kiss to his neck. Cassian's breath caught. But she pressed another kiss to the soft warm skin of his neck, just beneath his ear. Another, lower now, closer to the collar of his dark shirt. He trembled, and she kissed the hard knot in the centre of his throat. Licked it. Cassian shifted in his chair, groaning softly. His hand rose to clasp her hip, as if he'd push her away, but she removed him. 'Let me,' she said against his neck. 'Please.' He swallowed, and that hard knot moved against her mouth. But he didn't stop her, and so Nesta kissed him again, moving to the other side of his neck. Reaching that spot just beneath his ear as she laid a hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat hammering into her palm. She didn't kiss his mouth. She didn't want that distraction. Not as she slid between him and the table and dropped to her knees. His eyes went wide. 'Nesta.”

KissingSarah J MaasSeductionCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesSeducingKissesCheering Up
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“We've been working for barely two weeks, Nesta. Physically, you might be seeing changes, but what's happening in your mind, your heart, will take far longer than that. Fuck, it took Feyre months-' 'I don't want to hear about Feyre and her special journey. I don't want to hear about Rhy's journey, or Morrigan's, or anyone's.' 'Why?' The words, the rage, built again. She refused to speak, instead focusing on tamping down that power inside her until it didn't so much as murmur. 'Why?' he pushed. 'Because I don't,' she snapped. 'Put those bat wings away.' Cassian obeyed, but stepped closer, towering over her. 'Then I'll tell you about my special journey, Nes.' His tone was icy in a way she'd never heard. 'No.' 'I slaughtered every person who hurt my mother.' She blinked up at him, the weight in her vanishing at the vicious words. Cassian's face held only ancient rage. 'When I was old and strong enough, I went back to the village where I was born, where I'd been ripped from her arms, and I learned that she was dead. And there was no one I could fight to change that. They refused to tell me where they'd buried her. One of the females hinted that they'd dumped her off the cliff.' Horror and something like pain went through her. His eyes flared with cold light. 'So I destroyed them. Anyone who wasn't responsible- children and some females and the elderly- I let them leave. But anyone who had played a role in her suffering... I made them suffer in return. Rhys and Azriel helped me. Found the piece of shit who'd sired me. I let my brother tear him apart before I finished him.' The words hung between them. He said with soft fury, 'It took me ten years before I was able to face it. What I'd done to those people, and what I'd lost. Ten years.' He was trembling, but not with fear. 'So if you want to take ten years to face whatever is eating you alive from the inside out, go ahead. You want to take twenty years, go ahead.”

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“Cassian stepped in Nesta's path when she tried to walk past him. Put a tan, callused hand on her forehead. She shook off the touch, but he gripped her wrist, forcing her to meet his stare. 'Any one of those human pricks makes a move to hurt you,' he breathed, 'and you kill them.' ... Cassian pressed one of his knives into Nesta's hand. 'Ash can kill you now,' he said with lethal quiet as she stared down at the blade. 'A scratch can make you queasy enough to be vulnerable. Remember where the exits are in every room, every fence and courtyard- mark them when you go in, and mark how many men are around you. Mark where Rhys and the others are. Don't forget that you're stronger and faster. Aim for the soft parts,' he added, folding her fingers around the hilt. 'And if someone gets you into a hold...' My sister said nothing as Cassian showed her the sensitive areas on a man. Not just the groin, but the inside of the foot, pinching the thigh, using her elbow like a weapon. When he finished, he stepped back, his hazel eyes churning with some emotion I couldn't place. Nesta surveyed the fine dagger in her hand. Then lifted her head to look at him. 'I told you to come to training,' Cassian said with a cocky grin, and strode off. I studied Nesta, the dagger, her quiet, still face. 'Don't even start,' she warned me, and headed for the stairs.”

CaringSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronCassianNesta ArcheronSelf DefenseNestaA Court Of Wings And RuinProtecting
Book:A Court of Wings and Ruin
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“Nesta had loved Cassian since she'd first laid eyes on him. Had loved him even when she did not want to, even when she had been swallowed by despair and fear and hatred. Had loved him and destroyed herself because she didn't believe she deserved him, because he was all that was good, and brave, and kind, and she loved him, she loved him, she loved him-”

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“Cassian lay facedown on the earth. Nesta rushed toward him,, praying, sobbing, her magic still echoing through the world. She turned him over, searching for the knife, the wound, but- The knife lay beneath him. Unbloodied. He groaned, cracking his eyes open. 'I figured,' he rasped, 'I should lay low while you did that.' Nesta gaped at him. Then burst into tears. Cassian sat up, soothing sounds on his tongue, and took her face in his hands. 'You Unmade her.' Nesta glanced to the Crown on the earth- the black stain where Briallyn had been. 'She had it coming.' He chuckled, leaning his brow against hers. Nesta closed her eyes, breathing in his scent. 'You are my mate, Cassian,' she said against his lips, and kissed him softly. 'And you're mine,' he said, kissing her in turn. And then his hands slid into her hair.”

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“Everyone tensed as he leaned in, head dipping, and kissed her. Nesta's lips were chips of ice. But he let their coldness sting his own, and brushed his mouth against hers. Nipped at her bottom lip until he felt it drop a fraction. He slid his tongue into that opening, and found the inside of her mouth, usually so soft and warm, crusted with hoarfrost. Nesta didn't kiss him back, but didn't shove him away. So Cassian sent his heat into it, fusing their mouths together, his free hand bracing her hip as his Siphons nipped at her hand once more. Her mouth opened wider, and he slid his tongue over every inch- over her frozen teeth, over the roof of her mouth. Warming, softening, freeing. Her tongue lifted to meet his in a single stroke that cracked the ice in her mouth. He slanted his mouth over hers, tugging her against his chest, and tasted her as he'd wanted to taste her the other night, deep and thorough and claiming. Her tongue again brushed against his, and then her body was warming, and Cassian pulled back enough to say against her lips, 'Let go, Nesta.' He drove his mouth into hers again, daring her to unleash that cold fire upon him. Something thunked and clinked beside them. And when Nesta's other hand gripped her shoulder, fingers now free of stones and bones, when she arched her neck, granting him better, deeper access, he nearly shuddered with relief. She broke the kiss first, as if sliding into her body and remembering who kissed her, where they were, who watched. Cassian opened his eyes to find her so close that they shared breath. Normal, unclouded breath. Her eyes had returned to the blue-grey he knew so well. Stunned surprise and a little fear lit her face. As if she'd never seen him before. 'Interesting,' Amren observed, and he found the female studying the map. Feyre gaped, though, Rhys's hand gripped tight in her own. Caution blazed on Rhys's face. On Azriel's, too. What the hell did you do to pull her out of that? Rhys asked. Cassian didn't really know. The only thing I could think of. You warmed the entire room. I didn't mean to.”

KissingSarah J MaasFeyre ArcheronRhysandCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesAzrielAmren
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“No one would prevent her from venturing into the city, to a tavern, and drinking herself silly. No one would come to haul her back. She'd made it down the stairs. Life lay before her. Only, she found herself looking up. Toward the House where a Starfall party would be held in an hour. The male who would be there, who's encouraged her to come. She faced the city- the lovely, vibrant city. None of it seemed as vibrant as what waited above. The climb would be brutal, and almost without end, but at the top... Cassian would be waiting. As he had waited for her for years now. Nesta smiled. And began the climb.”

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“The same bowl of pork-and-bean soup appeared on the table. She peered at the distant ceiling. 'I said I'm not hungry.' A spoon appeared alongside the bowl. And a napkin. 'This is absolutely none of your business.' A glass of water thudded down next to the soup. Nesta crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair.”

FunnyHouseMagicFoodSarah J MaasNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesInsistentNot Hungry
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“... she shut her heavy eyes. 'Why don't they sign up for training?' He knew who she meant. 'Maybe they're not ready.' 'I thought they'd sign up.' 'Is that what you're upset about?' His question was so gentle, so sad. Nesta opened her eyes. 'Some of them have been here for hundreds of years and still haven't been able to come back from what they endured. So what hope do I have?”

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“I knew- with a sudden, uncoiling clarity- that Nesta would buy Elain time to run. Not my father, whom she resented with her entire steely heart. Not me, because Nesta had always known and hated that she and I were two sides of the same coin, and that I could fight my own battles. But Elain, the flower-grower, the gentle heart... Nesta would go down swinging for her.”

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“Move.' Cassian's cold voice cracked through the spell of the music, halting her. He stood before them, amid the sea of people twirling around and around, and even though most wore black, his armour and blades made him seem... different. Like a true piece of the night. Eris looked down his straight nose at Cassian. 'I don't take orders from brutes.' Nesta stifled her snarl and said coolly to Cassian, 'Am I to understand that you would like to dance with me?' 'Yes.' His hazel eyes were burning with violence. Had he really believed what he'd seen on the dance floor? Eris bared his teeth at Cassian. 'Go sit at your master's feet, dog.' It took all her concentration, every moment of Mind-Stilling, to keep from ripping out Eris's throat. But Nesta shoved her fury down, to the place where she'd stifled her power. 'No one likes a selfish partner, Eris.' She didn't so much as look at Cassian. Didn't trust what she'd do if she beheld pain in his eyes at Eris's insult. Feyre and Rhysand had given Eris one of her blades just to ensure his continued alliance. She wouldn't jeopardise it. So she added with a croon, 'Time to share.' Eris threw her a mocking smile. 'We'll play later, Nesta Archeron.”

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“Nesta is a wolf who has been locked in a cage her whole life. 'I know,' Cassian said. She was a wolf who had never learned how to be a wolf, thanks to that cage humans called propriety and society. And like any maltreated animal, she bit anyone who came near. Good thing he liked being bitten. Good thing he savoured the bruises and scratches she left on his body every night, and that her unleashing when he was buried in her made him want to answer with his own. Elain leaned forward. 'You only think you know- you haven't seen her on the dance floor. That's when Nesta truly lets the wolf roam free. When there's music.' 'Really?' Nesta had told him once, when he'd dragged her out of a particular seedy tavern, that she'd been there for the music. He'd ignored her, thinking it an excuse. 'Yes,' Elain said. 'She was trained in dance from a very young age. She loves it, and music. Not in the way I enjoy a waltz or a gavotte, but in the way that performers make an art of it. Nesta could bring an entire ballroom to a halt when she danced with someone.”

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“No, her father was ashes in the wind, his existence marked only by a headstone on a hill outside the city. Or so her sisters had told her. I loved you from the first moment I held you in my arms, her father had said to her in those last moments together. Don't lay your filthy hands on my daughter. Those had been his final words, spat at the King of Hybern. Her father had squandered those final words on that worm of a king. Her father. The man who had never fought for his children, not until the end. When he had come to save them- to save the humans and the Fae, yes, but most of all, his daughters. Her. A grand, stupid waste. Unholy dark power flowed through her, and it had not been enough to stop the King of Hybern from snapping his neck. She had hated her father, hated him deeply, and yet he had loved her, for some inexplicable reason. Not enough to try to spare them from poverty or keep them from starving. But somehow it had been enough for him to raise an army on the continent. To sail a ship named for her into battle. She had still hated her father in those last moments. And then his neck had cracked, his eyes not full of fear as he died, but of that foolish love for her. That was what had lingered- the look in his eyes. The resentment in her heart as he died for her. It had festered, gnawing at her like the power she buried deep, running rampant through her head until no icy baths could numb it away. She could have saved him. It was the King of Hybern's fault. She knew that. But it was hers, too. Just as it was her fault that Elain had been captured by the Cauldron after Nesta spied on it with that scrying, her fault that Hybern had done such terrible things to hunt her and her sisters down like a deer. Some days, the sheer dread and panic locked Nesta's body up so thoroughly that nothing could get her to breathe. Nothing could stop the awful power from beginning to rise, rise, rise in her. Nothing beyond the music at those taverns, the card games with strangers, the endless bottles of wine, and the sex that made her feel nothing- but offered a moment of release amid the roaring inside her.”

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“His hazel eyes guttered. 'Not eating won't bring your father back.' 'This has nothing to do with this,' she hissed. 'Nothing.' He braced his forearms on the table. 'We're going to cut the bullshit. You think I haven't gone through what you're dealing with? You think I haven't seen and done and felt all that before? And seen those I love deal with it , too? You aren't the first, and you won't be the last. What happened to your father was terrible, Nesta, but-' She shot to her feet. 'You don't know anything.' She couldn't stop the shaking that overtook her. From rage or something else, she didn't know. She balled her hands into fists. 'Keep your fucking opinions to yourself.' He blinked at the profanity., at that she guessed was the white-hot rage crinkling her face. And then he said, 'Who taught you to curse?' She squeezed her fists harder. 'You lost. You have the filthiest mouths I've ever heard.' Cassian's eyes narrowed with amusement, but his mouth remained a thin line. 'I'll keep my fucking opinions to myself if you eat.' She threw every bit of venom she could muster into her gaze. He only waited. Unmovable as the mountain into which the House had been built.”

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“Nesta only simmered, near-shaking with rage. Or cold. Cauldron, it was cold in here. Only the heated floors offered any reprieve. 'Fire,' he said, and the House obeyed. A great blaze flared to life in the hearth behind him. 'No fire,' she said, focused upon Cassian, though her words were not to him. The House seemed to ignore her. 'No fire,' she ordered. He could have sworn she blanched slightly. For a heartbeat, he was again in Rhys's mother's house in Windhaven. She'd been staring and staring into the fire, as if speaking to it, as if unaware that even he was there. The fire crackled and popped. Nesta seethed to the open air. 'I said-' A log cracked, as if the House was merrily ignoring her, adding heat to the flame. But Nesta flinched. Barely a blink and half a shudder, but her entire body went rigid. Fear and dread flashed over her features, then vanished. Strange.”

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“She didn't want to be in her head, didn't want to be in her body. Wanted the beating of drums and the riotous song of a fiddle to fill her with sound, to silence any thoughts. Wanted to find a bottle of wine and drink deep, let the wine pull her out of herself, set her mind drifting and numb.”

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“My father's death, it's- it's the reason I can't stand fires.' His hand stilled, then resumed. 'Why?' 'The logs...' She shuddered. 'They crack. It sounds like breaking bone.' 'Like your father's neck.' 'Yes,' she breathed. 'That's what I hear. I don't know how I'll ever not hear his neck snapping when I'm near a fire. It's... it's torture.' He continued to stroke her head. A wave of words pushed themselves out of her. 'I should have found a way to save us before then. Save Elain and Feyre when we were poor. But I was so angry, and I wanted him to try, to fight for us, but he didn't, and I would have let us all starve to prove what a wretch he was. It consumed me so much that... that I let Feyre go into that forest and told myself I didn't care, that she was half-wild, and it didn't matter, and yet...' She let out a wrenching cry. 'I close my eyes and I see her that day she went out to hunt the first time. I see Elain going into the Cauldron. I see her takin by it during the war. I see my father dead. And now I will see Feyre's face when I told her that the baby would kill her.' She shook and shook, her tears burning hot down her cheeks. Cassian kept stroking her hair, her back, as he held her by the lake. 'I hate it,' she said. 'Every part of me that... does these things. And yet I can't stop it. I can't let down this barrier, because to let it fall, to let everything in...' This was what would happen. This shrieking mess she'd become. 'I can't bear to be in my head. I can't bear to hear and see everything, over and over. That is all I hear- the snapping of his neck. His last words to me. That he loved me.' She whispered, 'I didn't deserve that love. I deserve nothing.' Cassian's hands tightened on her, her own hands falling away as she buried her face against his jacket and wept into his chest.”

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“The storm had broken, and it was not what Cassian had expected. He had expected rage capable of bringing down mountains. Not tears enough to fill this lake. Every sob had broken his heart. Every shake of her body as the words worked themselves out of her had torn him to shreds. Until he hadn't been able to keep from wrapping himself around her, comforting her.”

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“Her unbound hair slid over a shoulder, and she saw him mark that, too. His voice was rough as he said, 'I've never seen you with your hair down.' She always wore it braided across her head or pinned up. She frowned at the locks that flowed to her waist, the gold amongst the brown glimmering in the dim light. 'It's a nuisance when it's down.' 'It's beautiful.”

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“Do you like to read?' Emerie's mouth curled upward. 'I live alone, up in the mountains. I have nothing to do with my spare time except work in my garden and read whatever books I order through the mail service. And in the winter, I don't even have the distraction of my gardening. So, yes, I like to read. I cannot survive without reading.' Nesta grunted her agreement. 'What manner of books?' Gwyn asked. 'Romantics,' Emerie said, adjusting her own hair, the thick black braid full of reds and browns in the sunlight. Nesta started. Emerie's eyes lit. 'You too? Which ones?' Nesta rattled off her top five, and Emerie grinned, so broadly it was like seeing another person. 'Have you read Sellyn Drake's novels?' Nesta shook her head. Emerie gasped, so dramatically that Cassian muttered something about sparing him from smut-obsessed females before heading further into the ring. 'You must read her books. You must. I'll bring the first one tomorrow. You'll stay up all night reading it, I swear.' 'Smut?' Gwyn asked, catching Cassian's muttered words. There was enough hesitation in her voice to make Nesta draw up straight. Nesta glanced at Emerie, realising the female didn't know about Gwyn- her history, or why the priestesses lived in the library. But Emerie asked. 'What do you read?' 'Adventure, sometimes mysteries. But mostly I read whatever Merrill, the priestess I work with, has written that day. Not as exciting as romance, not by a long shot. Emerie said casually. 'I can bring one of Drake's brooks for you, too- one of her milder ones. An introduction to the wonders of romance.' Emerie winked at Nesta. Nesta waited for Gwyn to refuse, but the priestess smiled. 'I'd like that.”

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“You're nimble on your feet.' 'I took dancing lessons as a girl.' 'Really?' 'We weren't always poor. Until I was fourteen, my father was as rich as a king. They called him the Prince of Merchants.' He gave her a tentative smile. 'And you were his princess?' Ice cracked through her. 'No, Elain was his princess. Even Feyre was more his princess than I ever was.' 'And what were you?' 'I was my mother's creature.' She said it with such cold it nearly froze her tongue. Cassian said carefully, 'What was she like?' 'A worse version of me.”

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“I'll make a bargain with you.' ... Cassian maintained a casual stance. 'If you do an hour of exercises right now, I'll owe you a favour.' 'I don't need any favours from you.' 'Then name your price.' He struggled to calm his racing heart. 'An hour of training for whatever you want.' 'That's a fool's bargain for you.' Her eyes narrowed. 'I thought you were a general. Aren't you supposed to be good at negotiating?' His mouth quirked upward. She wasn't fighting him. 'For you, I have no strategies.' She studied him with unflinching focus. 'Anything I want?' 'Anything.' He added wryly, 'Anything short of you ordering me to fall out of the sky and smash my head on the earth.' She didn't smile the way he'd hoped. Her eyes turned to chips of ice. 'You truly believe me capable of such a thing?' No,' he said without hesitation. Her mouth tightened. Like she didn't believe him. ... She surveyed him again, and Cassian willed himself to stand still, to appear open and nonthreatening and not like his very heart was in his bloody, outstretched hands. She said at last, 'Fine. Let's just say it will be a favour. Of whatever size I wish.' It was dangerous to allow this. Deadly. Stupid. But he said. 'Yes.' He extended his hand. One last time. Keep reaching out your hand. 'A bargain.' He met her steely expression with his own. 'You train with me for an hour, and I'll owe you one favour of whatever size you wish.' 'Agreed.' She slid her hand into his and shook firmly.”

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“I can tell you about my mother, and how her death nearly destroyed me. I can tell you in detail about what I did afterward, and what that cost me. I can tell you about the decade it took me to work through it. I can tell you how many days and nights I suffered during the forty-nine years Amarantha held Rhys captive, the guilt tearing me apart that I wasn't there to help him, that I couldn't save him. I can tell you how I still look at him and know I'm not worthy of him, that I failed him when he needed me- that fact drags me from sleep sometimes. I can tell you I've killed so many people I've lost count, but I remember most of their faces. I can tell you how I hear Eris and Devlon and the others talk and, deep down, I still believe that I am a worthless bastard brute. That it doesn't matter how many Siphons I have or how many battles I've won, because I failed the two people dearest to me when it mattered the most.' She couldn't find the words to tell him that he was wrong. That he was good, and brave, and- 'But I'm not going to tell you all of that,' he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The wind seemed to pause, the sunlight on the lake brightening. He said, 'I am going to tell you that you will get through it. That you will face all of this, and you will get through it. That these tears are good, Nesta. These tears mean you care. I am going to tell you that it is not too late, not for any of it. And I can't tell you when, or how, but it will get better. What you feel, this guilt and pain and self-loathing- you will get through it. But only if you are willing to fight. Only if you are willing to face it, and embrace it, and walk through it, to emerge on the other side of it. And maybe you will still feel that tinge of pain, but there is another side. A better side. She pulled back from his chest then. Found his gaze lined with silver. 'I don't know how to get there. I don't think I'm capable of it.' His eyes glimmered with pain for her. 'You are. I've seen it- I've seen what you can do when you are willing to fight for the people you love. Why not apply that same bravery and loyalty to yourself? Don't say you don't deserve it.' He gripped her chin. 'Everyone deserves happiness. The road there isn't easy. It is long, and hard, and often travelled utterly blind. But you keep going.' He nodded to the mountains and lake. 'Because you know the destination will be worthwhile.' She stared up at him, this male who had walked with her for five days in near-silence, waiting, she knew, for this moment. She blurted, 'All the things I've done before-' 'Leave them in the past. Apologise to who you feel the need to, but leave those things behind.' 'Forgiveness is not that easy.' 'Forgiveness is something we also grant ourselves. And I can talk to you until these mountains crumble around us, but if you don't wish to be forgiven, if you don't want to stop feeling this way... it won't happen.' He cupped her cheek, calluses scraping against her overheated skin. 'You don't need to become some impossible ideal. You don't need to become sweet and simpering. You can give everyone that I Will Slay My Enemies look- which is my favourite look, by the way. You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don't want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself.' 'But I still don't know how to fix myself.' 'There's nothing broken to be fixed.' he said fiercely. 'You are helping yourself. Healing the parts of you that hurt to much- and perhaps hurt others, too.' Nesta knew he wouldn't have ever said it, but she saw it in his gaze- that she had hurt him. Many times. She'd known she had, but to see it again in his face... She lifted her hand to his cheek and laid it there, too drained to are about the gentleness of the touch. Cassian nuzzled into her hand, closing his eyes. 'I'll be with you every step of the way,' he whispered into her palm.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Cassian's arm shook, and Nesta braced herself for the blow, showing him her forgiveness, her unending, unbreakable love for him- But Cassian roared. And then the knife twisted in his hand, angling not toward her, but toward his own heart. Of his own free will. Against the Crown's hold, against a gasping Briallyn, he chose to drive the knife into his own heart. Kill, she had said. But had not specified who. And as the sun broke over the horizon, as Cassian's knife plunged for his chest, Nesta erupted with the force of the Cauldron.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Cassian nuzzled into her hand, closing his eyes. 'I'll be with you every step of the way,' he whispered into her palm. 'Just don't lock me out. You want to walk in silence for a week, I'm fine with that. So long as you talk to me at the end of it.' She stroked a thumb over his cheekbone, marvelling at him- the words and his beauty. Some essential piece of herself clicked into place. Some piece that whispered, Try. Cassian opened his eyes, and they were so lovely they nearly stole the breath from her. Nesta leaned forward until their brows touched. And despite all that brimmed in her heart, all that flowed through her body, sure and true, she merely whispered, 'Thank you.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Go back to the house.' 'I will,' he said, flashing a grin again. 'After I drop you off at your front door.' At that piece-of-shit apartment she insisted on living in. Across the city. Nesta's eyes- the same as Feyre's and yet wholly different, sharp and cold as steel- went to his hands. What was in them. 'What is that.' Another grin as he lifted the small, wrapped parcel. 'Your Solstice present.' 'I don't want one.' Cassian continued past her, tossing the present in his hands. 'You want this one.' He prayed she would. It had taken him months to find it. ... 'I don't want anything from you.' He made himself arch an eyebrow. 'You sure about that, sweetheart?”

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Book:A Court of Frost and Starlight
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“Cassian was sleeping in a chair beside her bed. His head was at an awkward angle, and his wings drooped onto the stone- and he was wearing only his undershorts and a blanket that looked as if someone had draped it over his lap. ... She stared at him for long minutes, the unusual paleness of his face, the brows still clenched with worry, as if he fretted for her, even in sleep. The sun gilded his dark hair and shone through his wings, bringing out the undertones of reds and golds in both. Like a knight guarding his lady. She couldn't stop the image, sprung from the pages of her childhood books. Like a warrior-prince, with those tattoos and that muscle-bound chest. Her throat tightened unbearably, her eyes stinging. She would not let herself cry, not for herself or for the sight of him keeping watch beside her bed all night. But it was as if her furious blinking woke him, as if he could hear the flutter of her lashes. His hazel eyes shot to hers, like he always knew precisely where she was. And they were so full of worry, of that unrelenting goodness, that she had to fight like hell to keep the tears from falling. Cassian said gently. 'Hey.' She clamped down on herself. 'Hello.' 'Are you all right?' 'Yes.' No. Though not for the reason he believed. 'Good.' He groaned, stretching, first his arms and then his wings. Muscles rippled. 'You want to talk about it?' 'No.' 'That's fine.' And that was that. But Cassian threw her a half smile, and it was so normal, so him in a way that no one else was or would ever be, that her throat tightened again. 'You want breakfast?' Nesta managed to answer his half smile with one of her own. 'I like your priorities, general.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Cassian strode in, a tray of food in hand, and halted when he didn't find her on the bed. His eyes shot to the sunken pool, and she could have sworn he almost dropped the tray onto the white carpet. 'I... You.' His loss of words was enough to pull her from her thoughts, to curve the corners of her mouth upward. 'Me?' He shook his head like a wet dog. 'I bought some food. I assumed you'd want dinner.' 'There's no dining room?' 'There is, but I thought you might need to unwind.' She surveyed him, surprised that he knew her well enough to guess that the thought of speaking to everyone again, of dressing in suitable clothes, was draining- miserable. Knew her well enough to grasp that she'd rather eat in her room and piece herself together.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“It wasn't that Elain was cruel. She wasn't like Nesta, who had been born with a sneer on her face. Elain sometimes just... didn't grasp things. It wasn't meanness that kept her from offering to help; it simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty. I'd never been able to decide whether she actually didn't understand that we were truly poor or if she just refused to accept it. It still hadn't stopped me buying her seeds for the flower garden she tended in the milder months, whenever I could afford it. And it hadn't stopped her from buying me three small tins of paint- red, yellow, and blue- during that same summer I'd had enough to buy the ash arrow. It was the only gift she'd ever given me, and out house still bore the marks of it, even if the paint was now fading and chipped: little vines and flowers along the windows and thresholds and edges of things, tiny curls of flame on the stones bordering the hearth. And spare minute I'd had that bountiful summer, I used to bedeck out house in colour, sometimes hiding clever decorations inside drawers, behind the threadbare curtains, underneath the chairs and table. We hadn't had a summer that easy since.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Doesn't count when you use your hands to do most of the work.' Nesta schooled her face into utter disdain, even as a hiss rose inside her. 'I bet that isn't what you've been telling yourself at night.' Azriel's shoulders shook with silent laughter as Cassian set down his fork, his eyes gleaming with challenge. Cassian's voice dropped an octave. 'Is that what those smutty books teach you? That it's only at night?' It took a heartbeat for the words to settle. And she couldn't stop it, the heat that sprang to her face, her glance at his powerful hands. Even with Azriel now biting his lip to keep from laughing, she couldn't stop herself. Cassian said with a wicked smile, 'It could be anytime- dawn's first light, or when I'm bathing, or even after a long, hard day of practice.' She didn't miss the slight emphasis he put on long, hard. Nesta couldn't stop her toes from curling in her boots. But she said with a silent smile, striding for the doorway, refusing to let one bit of the discomfort in her sore legs show, 'Sounds like you have a lot of time on your hands, Cassian.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Here for more?' 'I'm here to settle the debt between us.' His words were guttural. Her toes curled beneath the blanket. But her voice remained surprisingly calm. 'What debt?' 'The one I owe you for last night.' He spoke as if there was no room in him for teasing, for humour. His eyes drifted lower than her face, noting the hammering of her pulse. 'We have unfinished business.' She grappled for anything to guard against him. 'Male pride is a thing of wonder.' When he didn't respond, she threw another wall his way. 'Why are you even here? You made it clear enough that last night was a mistake.' He was having none of it. 'I never said that.' His attention remained fixed on her hammering pulse. 'You didn't need to. I saw it in your eyes.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“She had failed in every aspect of her life. Utterly and spectacularly failed, and keeping others from realising it had been her main purpose. She had shut them out, had shut herself out, because the weight of all those failures threatened to shatter her into a thousand pieces.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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