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Quote by Sarah J. Maas

“I opened the drawers of the vanity, searching for a scarf or something to cover the bruise peeking over the collar of my blue tunic, but then paused and glared at myself in the mirror. He'd acted like a brute and a savage, and if he'd come to his senses by this morning, then seeing what he'd done would be minimal punishment. Sniffing, I opened the collar of my tunic further and tucked stray strands of my golden-brown hair behind my ears so there would be no concealing it. I was beyond cowering.”

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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“I looked to Tamlin, and my heart cracked entirely. It was Tamlin, but not. Rather, it was the Tamlin I'd dreamed of. His skin gleamed with a golden sheen, and around his head glowed a circlet of sunshine. And his eyes... Not merely green and gold, but every hue and variation that could be imagined, as though every leaf in the forest had bled into one shade. This was a High Lord of Prythian- devastatingly handsome, captivating, powerful beyond belief.”

“I should bring you home,' he murmured, but he didn't move to drag me to my feet. Instead, I felt a slight thud in the earth, and the spring rain and new grass scent of him cloyed in my nose as he lay beside me. I tingled with pleasure as he stroked my hair. This was such a lovely dream. I'd never slept so wonderfully before. So warm, nestled beside him. Calm. Faintly, echoing into my world of slumber, he spoke again, his breath caressing my eye. 'You're exactly as I dreamed you'd be too.' Darkness swallowed everything.”

“He hung his head, sighing deeply as his hand tightened on mine. 'Feyre... I wish...' He shook his head and cleared his throat. 'I'm sending you home, Feyre.' Something inside me splintered. 'What?' 'I'm sending you home,' he repeated, and though his words were stronger- louder- they trembled a bit. ... My chest caved in. Leaving- free. 'Did I do something wrong-' He lifted my hand to press it to his lower cheek. He was so invitingly warm. 'You did nothing wrong.' He turned his face to kiss my palm. 'You were perfect,' he murmured onto my skin, then lowered my hand.”

“You're hardly more than skin and bones,' she said, her fingers luxurious against my scalp. 'Winter does that to poor mortals,' I said, fighting to keep the sharpness from my tone. She huffed a laugh. 'If you're wise, you'll keep your mouth shut and your ears open. It'll do you more good here than a loose tongue. And keep your wits about you- even your senses will try to betray you here.”

“A half-wild beast, Nesta had called me. But compared to him, compared to this place, compared to the elegant, easy way they held their goblets, the way the golden-haired one had called me human... we were all half-wild beasts to the High Fae. Even if they were the ones who could don fur and claws.”

“We all knew, deep down, that there was nothing to be done against the faeries. We'd all been told it, regardless of class or rank, from the moment we were born, the warnings sung to us while we rocked in cradles, the rhymes chanted in schoolyards. One of the High Fae could turn your bones to dust from a hundred yards away. Not that my sisters or I had ever seen it. But we still tried to believe that something- anything- might work against them, if we ever were to encounter them. There were two stalls in the market catering to those fears, offering up charms and baubles and incantations and bits of iron. I couldn't afford them- and if they did indeed work, they would buy us only a few minutes to prepare ourselves. Running was futile; so was fighting.”