2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

King of Hybern is indeed about to launch a war, and he wants to resurrect Jurian to do it.”
Jurian—the ancient warrior whose soul Amarantha had imprisoned within that hideous
ring as punishment for killing her sister. The ring that contained his eye …
“Bullshit,” Cassian spat. “There’s no way to do that.”
Amren had gone still, and it was she whom Azriel was observing, marking.
Amarantha was just the beginning, Rhys had once told me. Had he known this even
then? Had those months Under the Mountain merely been a prelude to whatever hell was
about to be unleashed? Resurrecting the dead. What sort of unholy power—
Mor groaned, “Why would the king want to resurrect Jurian? He was so odious. All he
liked to do was talk about himself.”
The age of these people hit me like a brick, despite all they’d told me minutes earlier.
The War—they had all … they had all fought in the War five hundred years ago.
“That’s what I want to find out,” Rhysand said. “And how the king plans to do it.”
Amren at last said, “Word will have reached him about Feyre’s Making. He knows it’s
possible for the dead to be remade.”
I shifted in my seat. I’d expected brute armies, pure bloodshed. But this—
“All seven High Lords would have to agree to that,” Mor countered. “There’s not a
chance it happens. He’ll take another route.” Her eyes narrowed to slits as she faced Rhys.
“All the slaughtering—the massacres at temples. You think it’s tied to this?”
“I know it’s tied to this. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for certain. But Azriel
confirmed that they’d raided the memorial in Sangravah three days ago. They’re looking
for something—or found it.” Azriel nodded in confirmation, even as Mor cast a surprised
look in his direction. Azriel gave her an apologetic shrug back.
I breathed, “That—that’s why the ring and the finger bone vanished after Amarantha
died. For this. But who …” My mouth went dry. “They never caught the Attor, did they?”
Rhys said too quietly, “No. No, they didn’t.” The food in my stomach turned leaden. He
said to Amren, “How does one take an eye and a finger bone and make it into a man
again? And how do we stop it?”
Amren frowned at her untouched wine. “You already know how to find the answer. Go
to the Prison. Talk to the Bone Carver.”
“Shit,” Mor and Cassian both said.
Rhys said calmly, “Perhaps you would be more effective, Amren.”
I was grateful for the table separating us as Amren hissed, “I will not set foot in the
Prison, Rhysand, and you know it. So go yourself, or send one of these dogs to do it for
you.”
Cassian grinned, showing his white, straight teeth—perfect for biting. Amren snapped
hers once in return.