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Quote by Sarah J. Maas

“I'll come with you,' I said softly to Tamlin, to Lucien, shifting on his feet, 'if you leave them alone. Let them go.' You do not hold me. Tamlin's face contorted with wrath. 'They're monsters. They're-' He didn't finish as he stalked across the floor to grab me. To drag me out of here, then no doubt winnow away. You do not hold me. The fist gripping my power relaxed. Vanished. Tamlin lunged for me over the few feet that remained. So fast- too fast- I became mist and shadow. I winnowed beyond his reach. The king let out a low laugh as Tamlin stumbled. And went sprawling as Rhysand's fist connected with his face. Panting, I retreated right into Rhysand's arms as one looped around my waist, as Azriel's blood on him soaked into my back. Behind us, Mor leaped in to fill the space Rhys had vacated, slinging Azriel's arm over her shoulders. ... Tamlin rose, wiping the blood now trickling from his nose as he backed to where Lucien held his position with a hand on his sword. But just as Tamlin neared his Emissary, he staggered a step. His face went white with rage. And I knew Tamlin understood a moment before the king laughed. 'I don't believe it. Your bride left you only to find her mate. The Mother has a warped sense of humour, it seems. And what a talent- tell me, girl; how did you unravel that spell?' I ignored him. But the hatred in Tamlin's eyes made my knees buckle. 'I'm sorry,' I said, and meant it. Tamlin's eyes were on Rhysand, his face near-feral. 'You,' he snarled, the sound more animal than Fae. 'What did you do to her?”

Quote by Sarah J. Maas

Work

A Court of Thorns and Roses

This novel is a blend of fantasy and romance, set in a world where magic is real and love can be dangerous. The story follows a young protagonist who becomes entangled in a complex web of politics, magic, and forbidden love. more

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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“The painting was a lie. A bright, pretty lie, bursting with pale pink blooms and fat beams of sunshine. I'd begun it yesterday, an idle study of the rose garden lurking beyond the open windows of the studio. Through the tangle of thorns and satiny leaves, the brighter greens of the hills rolled away into the distance. Incessant, unrelenting spring. If I'd painted this glimpse into the court the way my gut had urged me, it would have been flesh-shredding thorns, flowers that choked off the sunlight for any plants smaller than them, and rolling hills stained red. But each brushstroke on the wide canvas was calculated; each dab and swirl of blending colours meant to portray not just idyllic spring, but a sunny disposition as well. Not too happy, but gladly, finally healing from horrors I'd carefully divulged. I supposed that in the past weeks, I had crafted my demeanour as intricately as one of those paintings. I supposed that if I had also chosen to show myself as I truly wished, I would have adorned with flesh shredding talons, and hands that choked the life out of those now in my company. I would have left the gilded halls stained red.”

“The king jerked his chin at my left arm. 'Break that bond between you two.' 'Please,' I whispered. 'How else is Tamlin to have his bride? He can't very well have a wife who runs off to another male once a month.' Rhys remained silent, though his grip tightened on Azriel. Observing- weighing, sorting through the lock on his power. The thought of that silence between our souls being permanent... My voice cracked as I said to Tamlin, still at the opposite end of the crude half circle we'd formed before the dais. 'Don't. Don't let him. I told you- I told you that I was fine. That I left-' 'You weren't well,' Tamlin snarled. 'He used that bond to manipulate you. Why do you think I was gone so often? I was looking for a way to get you free. And you left.' 'I left because I was going to die in that house.' The King of Hybern clicked his tongue. 'Not what you expected, is it?' Tamlin growled at him, but again held out his hand toward me. 'Come home with me. Now.' 'No.' 'Feyre.' An unflinching command. Rhys was barely breathing- barely moving. And I realised... realised it was to keep his scent from becoming apparent. Our scent. Our mating bond.”

“I'm not going with you,' I spat at Tamlin. 'And even if I did... You spineless, stupid fool for selling us out to him! Do you know what he wants to do with that Cauldron?' 'Oh, I'm going to do many, many things with it,' the king said. And the Cauldron appeared again between us. 'Starting now.”

“There were different types of torture, I realised. There was the torture that I had endured, that Rhys had endured. And then there was this. The torture that Rhys had worked so hard those fifty years to avoid; the nightmares that haunted him. To be unable to move, to fight... while our loved ones were broken. My eyes met with those of my mate. Agony rippled in that violet stare- rage and guilt and utter agony. The mirror to my own.”

“Nesta fought every step of the way. She did not make it easy for them. She clawed and kicked and bucked. And it was not enough. And we were not enough to save her. I watched as she was hoisted up. Elain remained shuddering on the ground. Lucien's coat draped around her. She did not look at the Cauldron. Cassian stirred again, his shredded wings twitching and spraying blood, his muscles quivering. At Nesta's shouts, her raging, his eyes fluttered open, glazed and unseeing, an answer to some call in his blood, a promise he'd made her. But pain knocked him under again. Nesta was shoved into the water up to her shoulders. She bucked even as the water sprayed. She clawed and screamed her rage, her defiance. 'Put her under,' the king hissed. The guards straining, shoved her slender shoulders. Her brown-gold head. And as they pushed her head down, she thrashed one last time, freeing her long, pale arm Teeth bared, Nesta pointed one finger at the King of Hybern. One finger, a curse and a damning. A promise. And as Nesta's head was forced under the water, as that hand was violently shoved down, the King of Hybern had the good sense to look somewhat unnerved.”

“Tamlin?' I peered at my hands, the blood, and when I beheld Rhys, when I saw my grim-faced friends, and my drenched, immortal sisters- There was nothing but shock and confusion on Rhys's face as I scrambled back from him. Away from them. Toward Tamlin. 'Tamlin,' I managed to say again. Lucien's eye widened as he stepped between me and Elain. I whirled on the King of Hybern. 'Where-' I again faced Rhysand, 'What did you do to me,' I breathed, low and guttural. Backing toward Tamlin. 'What did you do?' Get them out. Get my sisters out. Play- please play along. Please- There was no sound, no shield, no glimmer of feeling in our bond. The king's power had blocked it out too thoroughly. There was nothing I could do against it, Cursebreaker or no. But Rhys slid his hands into his pockets as he purred, 'How did you get free?' 'What?' Jurian seethed, pushing off the wall and storming toward us. But I turned toward Tamlin and ignored the features and smell and clothes that were all wrong. He watched me warily. 'Don't let him take me again, don't let him- don't-' I couldn't keep the sobs from shuddering out, not as the full force of what I was doing hit me. 'Feyre,' Tamlin said softly. And I knew I had won. I sobbed harder. Get my sisters out, I begged Rhys through the silent bond. I ripped the wards open for you- all of you. Get them out. 'Don't let him take me,' I sobbed again. 'I don't want to go back.' And when I looked at Mor, at the tears streaming down her face as she helped Cassian get upright, I knew she realised what I meant. But the tears vanished- became sorrow for Cassian as she turned a hateful, horrified face to Rhysand and spat, 'What did you do to that girl?' Rhys cocked his head. 'How did you do it, Feyre?' There was so much blood on him. One last game- this was one last game we were to play together.”

“Jurian stalked over to Lucien amid the rising squabble, laughing under his breath, 'Do you know what Illyrian bastards do to pretty females? You won't have a mate left- at least not one that's useful to you in any way.' Lucien's answering growl was nothing short of feral. I spat at Jurian's feet. 'You can go to hell, you hideous prick.' Tamlin's hands tightened at my shoulders. Lucien spun toward me and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place. I was not panicking at my sisters being taken. I said quietly, 'We will get her back.' But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily. I said to Tamlin, 'Take me home.”