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Quote by Sarah J. Maas

“I could feel the full weight of Tamlin's undivided attention on me- on every breath and movement I took. I studied the candelabras atop the mantel beside the table. I had nothing to say that didn't sound absurd- yet for some reason, my mouth decided to start moving. 'You're so far away.' I gestured to the expanse of table between us. 'It's like you're in another room.' The quarters of the table vanished, leaving Tamlin not two feet away, sitting at an infinitely more intimate table. I yelped and almost tipped over in my chair. He laughed as I gaped at the small table that now stood between us. 'Better?' he asked. I ignored the metallic tang of magic as I said, 'How... how did you do that? Where did it go?' He cocked his head. 'Between. Think of it as... a broom closet tucked between pockets of the world.' He flexed his hands and rolled his neck, as if shaking off some pain. 'Does it tax you?' Sweat seemed to gleam on the strong column of his neck. He stopped flexing his hands and set them flat on the table. 'Once, it was an easy as breathing. But now... it requires concentration.' Because of the blight on Prythian and the toll it had taken on him. 'You could have just taken a closer seat,' I said. Tamlin gave me a lazy grin. 'And miss a chance to show off to a beautiful woman? Never.' I smiled down at my plate.' 'You do look beautiful,' he said quietly. 'I mean it,' he added when my mouth twisted to the side. 'Didn't you look in the mirror?' Though his bruise still marred my neck, I had looked pretty. Feminine. I wouldn't go so far to call myself a beauty, but... I hadn't cringed. A few months here had done wonders for the awkward sharpness and angles of my face. And I dared say that some kind of light had crept in to my eyes- my eyes, not my mother's eyes or Nesta's eyes. Mine.”

Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses

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 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

“I walked to the painting on the easel. It was an impression, not a lifelike rendering. 'I wanted you to see this one,' I said, pointing to the smear of green and gold and silver and blue. 'It's for you. A gift. For everything you've done.' Heat flared in my cheeks, my neck, my ears, as he silently approached the painting. 'It's the glen- with the pool of starlight,' I said quickly. 'I know what it is,' he murmured, studying the painting. I backed away a step, unable to bear watching him look at it, wishing I hadn't brought him in here, blaming it on the wine I'd had at dinner, on the stupid dress. He examined the painting for a miserable eternity, then looked away- to the nearest painting leaning against the wall. My gut tightened. A hazy landscape of snow and skeletal trees and nothing else. It looked like.... like nothing, I supposed, to anyone but me. I opened my mouth to explain, wishing I'd turned the others away from view, but he spoke. 'That was your forest. Where you hunted.' He came close to the painting, gazing at the bleak, empty cold, the white and grey and brown and black. 'This was your life,' he clarified. I was too mortified, too stunned, to reply. He walked to the next painting I'd left against the wall. Darkness and dense brown, flickers of ruby red and orange squeezing between them. 'Your cottage at night.' I tried to move, to tell him to stop looking at those ones and look at the others I'd laid out, but I couldn't- couldn't even breathe properly as he moved to the next painting. A tanned, sturdy male hand fisted in the hay, the pale pieces of it entwined among strands of brown coated with gold- my hair. My gut twisted. 'The man you used to see- in your village.' He cocked his head again as he studied the picture, and a low growl slipped out. 'While you made love.' He stepped back, looking at the row of pictures. 'This is the only one with brightness.' Was that... jealousy? 'It was the only escape I had.' Truth. I wouldn't apologise for Issac. Not when Tamlin had just been in the Great Rite. I didn't hold that against him- but if he was going to be jealous of Issac- Tamlin must have realised it, too, for he loosed a long, controlled breath before moving to the next painting. Tall shadows of men, bright red dripping off their fists, off their wooden clubs, hovering and filling the edges of the painting as they towered over the curled figure on the floor, the blood leaking from him, the leg at a wrong angle. Tamlin swore. 'You were there when they wrecked your father's leg.' 'Someone had to beg them to stop.' Tamlin threw a too-knowing glance in my direction and turned to look at the rest of the paintings. There they were, all the wounds I'd slowly been leeching these few months. I blinked. A few months. Did my family believe that I would be forever away with this so-called dying aunt? At last, Tamlin looked at the painting of the glen and the starlight. He nodded in appreciation. But he pointed to the painting of the snow-veiled woods. 'That one. I want that one.' 'It's cold and melancholy,' I said, hiding my wince. 'It doesn't suit this place at all.' He went up to it, and the smile he gave me was more beautiful than any enchanted meadow or pool of stars. 'I want it nonetheless,' he said softly.”

Art Beautiful Understanding Wounds Sarah J Maas Feyre Feyre Archeron A Court Of Thorns And Roses Tamlin Paintings

Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses

Source: A Court of Thorns and Roses

“It is a gown, but one such as I have never seen before. It is composed mostly of the cloth she showed me, but there are strips of other material running through it, some diaphanous and others satiny, some patterned in butterfly wings, some felted wool. Dangling threads hang from torn edges, and a few pieces of thin fabric have been wadded up to give them a new texture. The swirling patchwork she has created is at once tattered and beautiful.”

Beautiful Holly Black The Stolen Heir Suren Wren Dress Gown Patchwork Tattered

Book:The Stolen Heir

Source: The Stolen Heir

“What now?' Wordlessly, he took the soap from my hands and turned me, rubbing down my back, scrubbing lightly with the cloth. 'It's up to you,' Rhys said. 'We can go back to Velaris and have the bond verified by a priestess- no one like Ianthe, I promise- and be declared officially Mated. We could have a small party to celebrate- dinner with our... cohorts. Unless you'd rather have a large party, though I think you and I are in agreement about our aversion for them.' His strong hands kneaded muscles that were tight and aching in my back, and I groaned. 'We could also go before a priestess and be declared husband and wife as well as mates, if you want a more human thing to call me.' 'What will you call me?' 'Mate,' he said. 'Though also calling you my wife sounds mighty appealing, too.' His thumbs massaged the column of my spine. 'Of if you want to wait, we can do none of those things. We're mated, whether it's shouted across the world or not. There's no rush to decide.' I turned, 'I was asking about Jurian, the king, the queens, and the Cauldron, but I'm glad to know I have so many options where our relationship stands. And that you'll do whatever I want. I must have you wrapped completely around my finger.' His eyes danced with feline amusement. 'Cruel, beautiful thing.' I snorted. The idea that he found me beautiful at all- 'You are,' he said. 'You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I thought that from the first moment I saw you on Calanmai.'' And it was stupid, stupid for beauty to mean anything at all, but... My eyes burned. 'Which is good,' he added, 'because you thought I was the most beautiful make you'd ever seen. So it makes us even.”

Beautiful Sarah J Maas Feyre Feyre Archeron Mates Rhysand Rhys A Court Of Mist And Fury Options Chapter 55

Book:A Court of Mist and Fury

Source: A Court of Mist and Fury