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Sarah J. Maas

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“Rhysand's moon-white skin began to darken into nothing but shadow. 'Wait.' The darkness consuming him paused. For Tamlin... for Tamlin I would sell my soul; I would give up everything I had for him to be free. 'Wait,' I repeated. The darkness vanished, leaving Rhysand in his solid form as he grinned. 'Yes?' I raised my chin as high as I could manage. 'Just two weeks?' 'Just two weeks,' he purred, and knelt before me. 'Two teensy, tiny weeks with me every month is all I ask.' 'Why? And what are to... to be the terms?' I said, fighting past the dizziness. 'Ah,' he said, adjusting the lapel of his obsidian tunic. 'If I told you those things, there'd be no fun in it, would there?' ... I couldn't think entirely of the enormity of what I was about to give- or else I might refuse again. I met Rhysand's gaze. 'Five days.' 'You're going to bargain?' Rhysand laughed under his breath. 'Ten days.' I held his stare with all my strength. 'A week.' Rhysand was silent for a long moment, his eyes travelling across my body and my face before he murmured. 'A week it is.' 'Then it's a deal,' I said. A metallic taste filled my mouth as magic stirred between us.”

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“His smile became a bit wild, and before I could brace myself, he grabbed my arm. There was a blinding, quick pain, and my scream sounded in my ears as bone and flesh were shattered, blood rushed out of me, and then- Rhysand was still grinning when I opened my eyes. I hadn't any idea how long I'd been unconscious, but my fever was gone, and my head was clear as I sat up. In face, the mud was gone, too. I felt as if I'd just been bathed. But then I lifted my left arm. 'What have you done to me?' Rhysand stood, running a hand through his short, dark hair. 'It's custom in my court for bargains to be permanently marked upon flesh.' I rubbed my left forearm and hand, the entirety of which was now covered in swirls and whorls of black ink. Even my fingers weren't spared, and a large eye was tattooed in the centre of my palm. It was feline, and it's slitted pupil stared right back at me. 'Make it go away,' I said, and he laughed. 'You humans are truly grateful creatures, aren't you?' From the distance, the tattoo looked like an elbow-length lace glove, but when I held it close to my face, I could detect the intricate depictions of flowers and curves that flowed throughout to make up a larger pattern. Permanent. Forever. 'You didn't tell me this would happen.' 'You didn't ask. So how am I to blame?' He walked to the door but lingered, even as pure night wafted off his shoulders. 'Unless this lack of gratitude and appreciation is because you fear a certain High Lord's reaction.' Tamlin. I could already see his face going pale, his lips becoming thin as the claws came out. I could almost hear the growl he'd emit when he asked me what I had been thinking. 'I think I'll wait to tell him until the moment's right, though,' Rhysand said. The gleam in his eyes told me enough. Rhysand hadn't done any of this to save me, but rather to hurt Tamlin. And I'd fallen into his trap- fallen into it worse than the worm had fallen into mine.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Each of us has a beast roaming beneath our skin, roaring to get out. While your Tamlin prefers fur, I find wings and talons to be more entertaining.' A lick of cold kissed down my spine. 'Can you shift now, or did she take that, too?' 'So many questions from a little human.' But the darkness that hovered around him began to writhe and twist and flare as he rose to his feet. I blinked, and it was done. I lifted the iron poker, just a little bit. 'Not a full shift, you see,' Rhysand said, clicking the black razor-sharp talons that had replaced his fingers. Below the knee, darkness stained his skin- but talons also gleamed in lieu of toes. 'I don't particularly like yielding wholly to my baser side.' Indeed, it was still Rhysand's face, his powerful male body, but flaring out behind him were massive black membranous wings- like a bat's, like the Attor's. He tucked them in neatly behind him, but the single claw at the apex of each peeked over his broad shoulders. Horrific, stunning- the face of a thousand nightmares and dreams. That again-useless part of me stirred at the sight, the way the candlelight shone through the wings, illuminating the veins, the way it bounced off his talons. Rhysand rolled his neck, and it all vanished in a flash- the wings, the talons, the feet, leaving only the male behind, well-dressed and unruffled. 'No attempts at flattery?' I had made a very, very big mistake in offering my life to him. But I said. 'You have a high-enough opinion of yourself already. I doubt the flattery of a little human matters much to you.' He let out a low laugh that slid along my bones, warming my blood. 'I can't decide whether I should consider you admirable or very stupid for being so bold with a High Lord.' Only around him did I have trouble keeping my mouth shut, it seemed.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Your second trial is tomorrow night,' he said neutrally. The gold and silver thread in his black tunic shone in the candlelight. He never wore another colour. It was like a stone to the head. I'd lost count of the days. 'So?' 'It could be your last,' he said, and leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. 'If you're taunting me into playing another game of yours, you're wasting your breath.' 'Aren't you going to beg me to give you a night with your beloved?' 'I'll have that night, and all the ones after, when I beat her final task.' Rhysand shrugged, then flashed a grin as he pushed off the door and stepped toward me. 'I wonder if you were this prickly with Tamlin when you were his captive.' 'He never treated me like a captive- or a slave.' 'No- and how could he? Not with the shame of his father and brothers' brutality always weighing on him, the poor, noble beast.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Who would have thought that the self-righteous human girl couldn't read?' 'Keep your damned mouth shut about it.' 'Me? I wouldn't dream of telling anyone. Why waste that kind of knowledge on petty gossip?' If I'd had the strength, I would have leaped on him and ripped him apart. 'You're a disgusting bastard.' 'I'll have to ask Tamlin if that kind of flattery won his heart.”

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“Shameful,' Rhysand purred, and we whirled to find him faintly illuminated by the light that broke in through the doorway. But he stood behind us- father into the passage, rather than toward the door. He hadn't come in through the throne room. With that ability of his, he had probably walked through the walls. 'Just shameful.' He stalked toward us. Tamlin remained holding me. 'Look at what you've done to my pet.' Panting, neither of us said anything. But the air became a cold kiss upon my skin- upon my exposed breasts. 'Amarantha would be greatly aggrieved if she knew her little warrior was dallying with the human help,' Rhysand went on, crossing his arms. 'I wonder how she'd punish you. Or perhaps she'd stay true to habit and punish Lucien. He still has one eye to lose, after all. Maybe she'll put it in a ring, too.' Ever so slowly, Tamlin removed my hands from his body and stepped out of my embrace. 'I'm glad to see you're being reasonable,' Rhysand said, and Tamlin bristled. 'Now, be a clever High Lord and buckle your belt and fix your clothes before you go out there.' Tamlin looked at me, and, to my horror, did as Rhysand instructed. My High Lord never took his eyes off my face as he straightened his tunic and hair, then retrieved and fastened his belt again. The paint on his hands and clothes- paint from me- vanished. 'Enjoy your party,' Rhysand crooned, pointing to the door. Tamlin's green eyes flickered as they continued to stare into mine. He softly said, 'I love you.' Without another glance at Rhysand, he left.”

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“It wasn't until I was again staring down at my own broken body that I realised whose eyes I'd been seeing through. But Rhysand didn't come any closer to my corpse, not as rushing paws- then a flash of light, then footsteps- filled the air. The beast was already gone. Amarantha's blood had vanished from his face, his tunic, as Tamlin slammed to his knees. He scooped up my limp, broken body, cradling me to his chest. He hadn't removed his mask, but I saw the tears that fell onto my filthy tunic, and I heard the shuddering sobs that broke from him as he rocked me, stroking my hair. 'No,' someone breathed- Lucien, his sword dangling from his hand. Indeed, there were many High Fae and faeries who watched with damp eyes as Tamlin held me. I wanted to get to Tamlin. I wanted to touch him, to beg for his forgiveness for what I'd done, for the other bodies on the floor, but I was so far away.”

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“Rhysand stepped forward, bring my shred of soul with him, and I found Tamlin staring at me- at us. 'For what she gave,' Rhysand said, extending a hand, 'we'll bestow what our predecessors have granted to few before.' He paused. 'This makes us even,' he added, and I felt the twinkle of humour as he opened his hand and let the seed of light fall on me. Tamlin tenderly brushed aside my matted hair. His hand glowed bright as the rising sun, and in the centre of his palm, that strange, shining bud formed. 'I love you,' he whispered, and kissed me as he laid his hand on my heart.”

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“Don't you want me to heal your arm?' His fingers tightened around my elbow. 'At what cost?' I shot back, but kept my head against the stone, needing its damp strength. 'Ah, that. Living among faeries has taught you some of our ways.' I focused on the feeling of my good hand on my knee- focused on the dry mud beneath my fingernails. 'I'll make a trade with you,' he said casually, and gently set my arm down. As it met with the floor, I had to close my eyes to brace against the flow of the poisoned lightning. 'I'll heal your arm in exchange for you. For two weeks every month, two weeks of my choosing, you'll live with me at the Night Court. Starting after this messy three-trials business.”

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“Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven's feathers, off-setting his pale skin and blue eyes so deep they were violet, even in the firelight. They twinkled with amusement as he beheld me. For a moment, we said nothing. Thank you didn't seem to cover what he'd done for me, but something about the way he stood with absolute stillness, the night seeming to press in closer around him, made me hesitate to speak- made me want to run in the other direction.”

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“The drumming was increasing in tempo, building to a climax I didn't understand. It had been so long since I'd seen a bare face that looked even vaguely human. His clothes- all black, all finely made- were cut close enough to his body that I could see how magnificent he was. As if he'd been moulded from the night itself.”

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“Strange for a mortal to be friends with two faeries,' he mused and began circling me. I could have sworn tendrils of star-kissed night trailed in his wake. 'Aren't humans usually terrified of us? And aren't you, for that matter, supposed to keep to your side of the wall?' I was terrified of him, but I wasn't about to let him know.”

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“Is that so hard to believe? My mother claimed I was so withdrawn and strange because I was born on the longest night of the year. She tried one year to have my birthday on another day, but forgot to do it the next time—there was probably a more advantageous party she had to plan.” “Now I know where Nesta gets it. Honestly, it’s a shame we can’t stay longer—if only to see who’ll be left standing: her or Cassian.” “My money’s on Nesta.” A soft chuckle that snaked along my bones—a reminder that he’d once bet on me. Had been the only one Under the Mountain who had put money on me defeating the Middengard Wyrm. He said, “So’s mine.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“He chuckled, the sound bouncing off the gray stones strewn across the forest floor like scattered marbles. “Cassian tried to convince me last night not to take you. I thought he might even punch me.” “Why?” I barely knew him. “Who knows? With Cassian, he’s probably more interested in fucking you than protecting you.” “You’re a pig.” “You could, you know,” Rhys said, holding up the branch of a scrawny beech for me to slip under. “If you needed to move on in a physical sense, I’m sure Cassian would be more than happy to oblige.” It felt like a test in itself. And it pissed me off enough that I crooned, “Then tell him to come to my room tonight.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Where are we?” I breathed, hardly daring to whisper. Rhys kept his hands within casual reach of his weapons. “In the heart of Prythian, there is a large, empty territory that divides the North and South. At the center of it is our sacred mountain.” My heart stumbled, and I focused on my steps through the ferns and moss and roots. “This forest,” Rhys went on, “is on the eastern edge of that neutral territory. Here, there is no High Lord. Here, the law is made by who is strongest, meanest, most cunning. And the Weaver of the Wood is at the top of their food chain.” The trees groaned—though there was no breeze to shift them. No, the air here was tight and stale. “Amarantha didn’t wipe them out?” “Amarantha was no fool,” Rhys said, his face dark. “She did not touch these creatures or disturb the wood. For years, I tried to find ways to manipulate her to make that foolish mistake, but she never bought it.” “And now we’re disturbing her—for a mere test.”

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“Lucien claimed you would come,' Tamlin said by way of greeting, voice as flat and lifeless as his eyes, a hand still braced on the door. 'Funny, I thought his mate was the seer.' Tamlin only stared at me, either ignoring or missing the humour. 'What do you want?' No whisper of sound behind him. On any acre of this estate. Not even a note of birdsong. 'I came to have a little chat,' I offered him a half grin that I knew made him see red. 'Can I trouble you for a cup of tea?”

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“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.”

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“Lucien frowned at the remaining place setting at the head of the table, then at the blank, barren spot across from Nesta. 'I- shouldn't you sit at the head?' Rhys raised an eyebrow. 'I don't care where you sit. I only care about eating something right'- he snapped his fingers- 'now.”

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“Well, good-bye for now," he said, rolling his neck as if we hadn't been talking about anything important at all. He bowed at the waist, those wings vanishing entirely, and had begun to fade into the nearest shadow when he went rigid. His eyes locked on mine wide and wild, and his nostrils flared. Shock—pure shock flashed across his features at whatever he saw on my face, and he stumbled back a step. Actually stumbled. "What is—" I began. He disappeared—simply disappeared, not a shadow in sight—into the crisp air.”

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“When you healed my arm...You didn't need to bargain with me. You could have demanded every single week of the year." My brows knit together as he turned, already half-consumed by the dark. "Every single week, and I would have said yes." It wasn't entirely a question, but I needed the answer. A half smile appeared on his sensuous lips. "I know," he said, and vanished.”

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“I stared at the nose I'd seen bleeding only hours before, the violet eyes that had been so filled with pain. "Why?" I asked. He knew what I meant, and shrugged. "Because when the legends get written, I didn't want to be remembered for standing on the sidelines. I want my future offspring to know that I was there, and that I fought against her at the end, even if I couldn't do anything useful." I blinked, this time not at the brightness of the sun. "Because," he went on, his eyes locked with mine, "I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone." And for a moment, I remembered that faerie who had died in our foyer, and how I'd told Tamlin the same thing. "Thank you," I said, my throat tight. Rhys flashed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. " I doubt you'll be saying that when I take you to the Night Court.”

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“If he hadn’t been kissing me, if he hadn’t shown up and interrupted us, I would have gone out into that throne room covered in smudged paint. And everyone—especially Amarantha—would have known what I’d been up to. It wouldn’t have taken much to figure out whom I’d been with, especially not once they saw the paint on Tamlin. I didn’t want to consider what the punishment might have been. Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain.”

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“—Porque cuando se escriban las leyendas, no quería que me recordarán como alguien que escurrió el bulto. Quiero que mi futuro hijo sepa que yo estuve ahí, que pelee contra Amarantha al final, aunque mis esfuerzos de poco sirvieran. Parpadeé, y esta vez no era por el brillo del sol. —Porque —continuó él, los ojos fijos en los míos— no queria que pelearas sola. O murieras sola.”

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“Hello, Gwyn,' he said warmly. 'Good to see you again.' Gwyn blushed, shaking herself out of her stupor and bowed low. 'My lord.' Nesta rolled her eyes, and found Rhys watching her. That casual smile sharpened as he met her stare. 'Nesta.' 'Rhysand.' The other two women were glancing between them, the bouncing of their stares almost comical. Cassian just strode to Nesta's side and slung an arm around her shoulders before drawling to Rhys, 'These ladies are going to hand your ass to you in combat soon enough.' Nesta made to step out from under the heavy, sweaty weight of his arm, but Cassian clamped a too-friendly hand on her shoulder, his grin unfaltering. Rhys's gaze slid between them, little warmth to be found in his eyes. But plenty of wariness. Little princeling didn't like her with his friend. Nesta leaned into Cassian. Not much, but enough for a trained warrior like Rhysand to note. A dark, silken hand brushed inside her mind. A request. She debated ignoring it, but found herself opening a small door through the steel, spiked barrier she kept around herself day and night. The door was essentially a peephole, and she allowed what she supposed was the equivalent of her mental face to peer through it to the dark, sparkling plane beyond. What? You are to treat Gwyn with kindness and respect. The thing that stood beyond the fortress of her mind was a creature of claws, scales and teeth. It was veiled from sight beneath writhing shadows and the occasional passing star glinting in the darkness, but every now and then, a glimpse of a wing or talon shone. Mind your own business. Nesta slammed the small viewing hole shut. She blinked, slowly registering Emerie asking Cassian about tomorrow morning's lesson, and what she'd miss today by leaving an hour early. Rhysand's eyes glimmered. Cassian's arm remained around Nesta, and his thumb moved over her shoulder in an idle, reassuring caress. Whether he knew of or sensed her silent conversation with his High Lord, he didn't let on.”

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“Helion, High Lord of the Day Court, arrived at the Hewn City the next afternoon on a flying horse. He'd wanted to enter the dark city in a golden chariot led by four snow-white horses with manes of golden fire, Rhys had told Cassian, but Rhys had forbidden the chariot and horses, and let Helion know that he could winnow in or not come at all. Hence the pegasus. Helion's idea of a compromise. Cassian had heard the rumours of Helion's rage pegasuses. Myth claimed his prized stallion had flown so high the sun had scorched him black, but beholding the beast now... Well, Cassian might have been envious, if he didn't have wings himself.”

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“Cassian watched Rhys's face carefully as Nesta and Emerie spoke, and Gwyn drifted over to join them. Promises of books to be swapped filled the air. Rhys said to him, This is an interesting development. Cassian didn't bother to make his face look pleasant. I could have done without you giving Nesta a mental warning. Rhys's brows narrowed. How did you know I did that? The bastard didn't even try to deny it. I noticed the way she tensed. And I know you well, brother. You saw Gwyn and thought the worst of Nesta. She's treated her- and Emerie- with kindness. That's what pissed you off? I'm pissed off that you can't seem to believe even one good thing about her. That you refuse to fucking believe one good thing about her. Was it necessary to bait her like that? Regret glimmered in Rhys's eyes. Cassian went on. You're not making it easier. Let her build these bonds, and stay the hell out of it. Rhys blinked. I'm sorry. I will. Cassian blew out a breath. Rhys added. Did you really feel you had to put your arm around her shoulders to restrain her. I don't want the two of you within three feet of each other. You have a pregnant mate, Rhys. You'll kill anyone that presents a threat to Feyre. You're a danger to all of us right now. I'd never harm someone Feyre loves. You know that.”

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“The dream had been real and not real, and there had been no end to it, no escape. Until a familiar male voice had said her name. And the terror had stopped, as if the axis of the world had shifted toward that voice. That voice, which became a doorway, full of light and strength. Nesta had reached a hand toward it. And then there had been another male voice in her mind, and this one had been familiar as well, and full of power. But it had been kind in a way she had never heard the voice be to her, and it had eased her from the black pit of the dream, leading her with a star-flecked hand back to a land of drifting clouds and rolling hills under a bright moon. She had curled up on one of those hills, safe and guarded in the moonlight, and slept. Nesta dozed, heavy and dreamless, and did not open her eyes until sunlight, not moonlight, kissed her face.”

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“Nesta was just settling herself at the dining table, stomach gurgling with hunger, when Cassian entered. Limped in was more like it. She couldn't stop a near-silent gasp from escaping her as she took in the black eye, the split lip, the bruised jaw. 'What happened?' she demanded. Cassian shuffle-hopped to his chair and then dropped into it. 'I sparred with Rhys.' 'You look like a tenderised piece of meat.' 'You should see him.' He laughed hoarsely. 'Why did you fight like that?' If it had something to do with her nightmare- 'Rhys needed to get it out of his system.' Cassian sighed at the bowl of roast chicken and rice soup that appeared before him. 'Despite the smooth exterior my brother presents to the world, he needs to let loose every now and then.' 'Your idea of letting loose and mine appear to be very different.”

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“Considering that Nesta brushed off Helion's smouldering advances during the war, he might not be so inclined to help her.' 'He'll help,' Rhys said, stars shimmering in his gaze. 'If only for another shot at her.' Nesta rolled her eyes, and the gesture was so normal that Cassian's smile became more genuine, edged now with relief. You wear your heart for all to see, brother, Rhys said without turning Cassian's way. Cassian only shrugged. He was past caring.”

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