2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

chill river breeze, at the clothes displayed in the broad glass windows, or the luster of gold
and ruby and emerald and pearl nestled on velvet beds. I didn’t dare glance at the nowempty
finger on my left hand.
Rhys entered a few of the jewelry shops, looking for a present for a friend, he said. I
chose to wait outside each time, hiding in the shadows beneath the Palace buildings.
Walking around today was enough. Introducing myself, enduring the gawking and tears
and judgment … If I had to deal with that, I might very well climb into bed and never get
out.
But no one on the streets looked twice at me, even at Rhysand’s side. Perhaps they had
no idea who I was—perhaps city-dwellers didn’t care who was in their midst.
The second market, the Palace of Bone and Salt, was one of the Twin Squares: one on
this side of the river, the other one—the Palace of Hoof and Leaf—across it, both
crammed with vendors selling meat, produce, prepared foods, livestock, confections,
spices … So many spices, scents familiar and forgotten from those precious years when I
had known the comfort of an invincible father and bottomless wealth.
Rhysand kept a few steps away, hands in his pockets as he offered bits of information
every now and then. Yes, he told me, many stores and homes used magic to warm them,
especially popular outdoor spaces. I didn’t inquire further about it.
No one avoided him—no one whispered about him or spat on him or stroked him as
they had Under the Mountain.
Rather, the people that spotted him offered warm, broad smiles. Some approached,
gripping his hand to welcome him back. He knew each of them by name—and they
addressed him by his.
But Rhys grew ever quieter as the afternoon pressed on. We paused at the edge of a
brightly painted pocket of the city, built atop one of the hills that flowed right to the river’s
edge. I took one look at the first storefront and my bones turned brittle.
The cheery door was cracked open to reveal art and paints and brushes and little
sculptures.
Rhys said, “This is what Velaris is known for: the artists’ quarter. You’ll find a hundred
galleries, supply stores, potters’ compounds, sculpture gardens, and anything in between.
They call it the Rainbow of Velaris. The performing artists—the musicians, the dancers,
the actors—dwell on that hill right across the Sidra. You see the bit of gold glinting near
the top? That’s one of the main theaters. There are five notable ones in the city, but that’s
the most famous. And then there are the smaller theaters, and the amphitheater on the sea
cliffs … ” He trailed off as he noticed my gaze drifting back to the assortment of bright
buildings ahead.
High Fae and various lesser faeries I’d never encountered and didn’t know the names of
wandered the streets. It was the latter that I noticed more than the others: some longlimbed,
hairless, and glowing as if an inner moon dwelled beneath their night-dark skin,
some covered in opalescent scales that shifted color with each graceful step of their