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Quote by Sarah J. Maas

“The Court of Dreams. The people who knew there was a price, and one worth paying for that dream. The bastard-born warriors, the Illyrian half-breed, the monster trapped in a beautiful body, the dreamer born into a court of nightmares... And the huntress with an artist's soul.”

Quote by Sarah J. Maas

Work

A Court of Mist and Fury

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Author

Sarah J. Maas
Sarah J. Maas

Sarah J. Maas is an American author known for her fantasy novels. Her works are celebrated for their rich imagination, complex characters, and gripping plots. Born on March 5, 1986, Maas has developed a passion for writing from a young age and has become a successful author in her own right. more

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

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

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

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

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

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