2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

Now they all looked at me.
I cringed. “Perhaps was what the Bone Carver said in regard to me being able to track
things. You don’t know … ” My words faded as Rhys smirked.
“You have a kernel of all our power—like having seven thumbprints. If we’ve hidden
something, if we’ve made or protected it with our power, no matter where it has been
concealed, you will be able to track it through that very magic.”
“You can’t know that for sure,” I tried again.
“No—but there is a way to test it.” Rhys was still smiling.
“Here we go,” Cassian grumbled. Mor gave Azriel a warning glare to tell him not to
volunteer this time. The spymaster just gave her an incredulous look in return.
I might have lounged in my chair to watch their battle of wills had Rhys not said, “With
your abilities, Feyre, you might be able to find the half of the Book at the Summer Court
—and break the wards around it. But I’m not going to take the carver’s word for it, or
bring you there without testing you first. To make sure that when it counts, when we need
to get that book, you—we do not fail. So we’re going on another little trip. To see if you
can find a valuable object of mine that I’ve been missing for a considerably long time.”
“Shit,” Mor said, plunging her hands into the thick folds of her sweater.
“Where?” I managed to say.
It was Azriel who answered. “To the Weaver.”
Rhys held up a hand as Cassian opened his mouth. “The test,” he said, “will be to see if
Feyre can identify the object of mine in the Weaver’s trove. When we get to the Summer
Court, Tarquin might have spelled his half of the Book to look different, feel different.”
“By the Cauldron, Rhys,” Mor snapped, setting both feet on the carpet. “Are you out of
your—”
“Who is the Weaver?” I pushed.
“An ancient, wicked creature,” Azriel said, and I surveyed the faint scars on his wings,
his neck, and wondered how many such things he’d encountered in his immortal life. If
they were any worse than the people who shared blood ties with him. “Who should remain
unbothered,” he added in Rhys’s direction. “Find another way to test her abilities.”
Rhys merely shrugged and looked to me. To let me choose. Always—it was always my
choice with him these days. Yet he hadn’t let me go back to the Spring Court during those
two visits—because he knew how badly I needed to get away from it?
I gnawed on my lower lip, weighing the risks, waiting to feel any kernel of fear, of
emotion. But this afternoon had drained any reserve of such things. “The Bone Carver, the
Weaver … Can’t you ever just call someone by a given name?”
Cassian chuckled, and Mor settled back in the sofa cushions.
Only Rhys, it seemed, understood that it hadn’t entirely been a joke. His face was tight.