2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

Mor choked on her wine. Amren slid her attention to the warrior to her right. Azriel, on
her other side, monitored the two of them very, very carefully. “No one warming your bed
right now, Cassian? It must be so hard to be an Illyrian and have no thoughts in your head
save for those about your favorite part.”
“You know I’m always happy to tangle in the sheets with you, Amren,” Cassian said,
utterly unfazed by the silver eyes, the power radiating from her every pore. “I know how
much you enjoy Illyrian—”
“Miryam,” Rhysand said, as Amren’s smile became serpentine, “and Drakon are doing
well, as far as I’ve heard. And what, exactly, is interesting?”
Amren’s head tilted to the side as she studied me. I tried not to shrink from it. “Only
once before was a human Made into an immortal. Interesting that it should happen again
right as all the ancient players have returned. But Miryam was gifted long life—not a new
body. And you, girl …” She sniffed again, and I’d never felt so laid bare. Surprise lit
Amren’s eyes. Rhys just nodded. Whatever that meant. I was tired already. Tired of being
assessed and evaluated. “Your very blood, your veins, your bones were Made. A mortal
soul in an immortal body.”
“I’m hungry,” Mor said nudging me with a thigh. She snapped a finger, and plates piled
high with roast chicken, greens, and bread appeared. Simple, but … elegant. Not formal at
all. Perhaps the sweater and pants wouldn’t have been out of place for such a meal.
“Amren and Rhys can talk all night and bore us to tears, so don’t bother waiting for them
to dig in.” She picked up her fork, clicking her tongue. “I asked Rhys if I could take you to
dinner, just the two of us, and he said you wouldn’t want to. But honestly—would you
rather spend time with those two ancient bores, or me?”
“For someone who is the same age as me,” Rhys drawled, “you seem to forget—”
“Everyone wants to talk-talk-talk,” Mor said, giving a warning glare at Cassian, who
had indeed opened his mouth. “Can’t we eat-eat-eat, and then talk?”
An interesting balance between Rhys’s terrifying Second and his disarmingly chipper
Third. If Mor’s rank was higher than that of the two warriors at this table, then there had to
be some other reason beyond that irreverent charm. Some power to allow her to get into
the fight with Amren that Rhys had mentioned—and walk away from it.
Azriel chuckled softly at Mor, but picked up his fork. I followed suit, waiting until he’d
taken a bite before doing so. Just in case—
Good. So good. And the wine—
I hadn’t even realized Mor had poured me a glass until I finished my first sip, and she
clinked her own against mine. “Don’t let these old busybodies boss you around.”
Cassian said, “Pot. Kettle. Black.” Then he frowned at Amren, who had hardly touched
her plate. “I always forget how bizarre that is.” He unceremoniously took her plate,
dumping half the contents on his own before passing the rest to Azriel.
Azriel said to Amren as he slid the food onto his plate, “I keep telling him to ask before