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Quote by Sarah J. Maas

“First Cassian and Azriel appeared in the doorway. The High Lord's general and shadowsinger- and the most powerful Illyrians in history. They were not the males I had come to know. Clad in battle-black that hugged their muscled forms, their armour was intricate, scaled- their shoulders impossibly broader, their faces a portrait of unfeeling brutality. They reminded me, somehow, of the ebony beasts carved into the pillars they passed. More siphons, I realised, glimmered in addition to the ones atop each of their hands. A Siphon in the centre of their chest. One on either shoulder. One on either knee. For a moment, my knees quaked, and I understood what the camplords had feared in them. If one Siphon was what most Illyrians needed to handle their killing power... Cassian and Azriel had seven each. Seven. The courtiers had the good sense to back away a step as Cassian and Azriel strolled through the crowd, toward the dais. Their wings gleamed, the talons at the apex sharp enough to pierce air- like they'd honed them.”

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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“Cassian nudged his bastard-brother-whatever out of the way, Azriel's mighty wings flaring slightly as he balanced himself. 'How the hell did you make that bone ladder in the Middengard Wyrm's lair when you look like your own bones can snap at any moment?' ... I met Cassian's gaze, if only because having Rhysand defend me might very well make me crumble a bit more. And maybe it made me as mean as an adder, maybe I relished being one, but I said, 'How the hell did you manage to survive this long without anyone killing you?' Cassian tipped back his head and laughed, a full, rich sound that bounced off the ruddy stones of the House.”

“Rhys's face was drawn, his shoulders tense as I gripped them. I knew what to expect, but... even after he told me what he needed me to do, even after I had agreed, he'd been... aloof. Haunted. Worried for me, I realised. And just because of that worry, just to get that tightness off his face, even for these few minutes before we faced his unholy realm beneath that mountain, I said over the wind, 'Amren and Mor told me that the span of an Illyrian male's wings says a lot about the size of... other parts.' His eyes shot to mine, then to pine-tree-coated slopes below. 'Did they now.' I shrugged in his arms, trying not to think about the naked body that night all those weeks ago- though I hadn't glimpsed much. 'They also say Azriel's wings are the biggest.' Mischief danced in those violet eyes, washing away the cold distance, the strain. The spymaster was a black blur against the pale blue sky. 'When we return home, let's get out the measuring stick, shall we?”

“THRICE bless'd are they, who feel their loneliness; To whom nor voice of friends nor pleasant scene Brings aught on which the sadden'd heart can lean; Yea, the rich earth, garb'd in her daintiest dress Of light and joy, doth but the more oppress, Claiming responsive smiles and rapture high; Till, sick at heart, beyond the veil they fly, Seeking His Presence, who alone can bless. Such, in strange days, the weapons of Heaven's grace; When, passing o'er the high-born Hebrew line, He moulds the vessel of His vast design; Fatherless, homeless, reft of age and place, Sever'd from earth, and careless of its wreck, Born through long woe His rare Melchizedek.”

“And there were Mor and Azriel- and Cassian. The three of them dancing together, Mor's head tipped back to the sky, arms up, the starlight gleaming on the pure white of her gown. Dancing as if it might be her last time, flowing between Azriel and Cassian like the three of them were one unit, one being. I looked behind me to find Rhys watching them, his face soft. Sad. Separated for fifty years, and reunited- only to be cleaved apart so soon to fight again for their freedom. Rhys caught my gaze and said, 'Come. There's a better view. Quieter.' He held a hand out to me.' That sorrow, the weight, lingered in his eyes. And I couldn't bear to see it- just as I couldn't bear to see my three friends dancing together as if it was the last time they'd ever do it.”