2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

ten. Time to go.
My hair had been arranged before breakfast in a braided coronet atop my head, a small
diadem of gold—flecked with lapis lazuli—set before it. Matching earrings dangled low
enough to brush the sides of my neck, and I picked up the twisting gold bracelets that had
been left out on the dresser, sliding one onto either wrist.
Mor made no comment—and I knew that if had worn nothing but my undergarments,
she would have told me to own every inch of it. I turned to her. “I’d like my sisters to meet
you. Maybe not today. But if you ever feel like it …”
She cocked her head.
I rubbed the back of my bare neck. “I want them to hear your story. And know that
there is a special strength … ” As I spoke I realized I needed to hear it, know it, too. “A
special strength in enduring such dark trials and hardships … And still remaining warm,
and kind. Still willing to trust—and reach out.”
Mor’s mouth tightened and she blinked a few times.
I went for the door, but paused with my hand on the knob. “I’m sorry if I was not as
welcoming to you as you were to me when I arrived at the Night Court. I was … I’m
trying to learn how to adjust.”
A pathetic, inarticulate way of explaining how ruined I’d become.
But Mor hopped off the bed, opened the door for me, and said, “There are good days
and hard days for me—even now. Don’t let the hard days win.”
Today, it seemed, would indeed be yet another hard day.
With Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel ready to go—Amren and Mor remaining in Velaris to
run the city and plan our inevitable trip to Hybern—I was left with only one choice: who
to fly with.
Rhys would winnow us off the coast, right to the invisible line where the wall bisected
our world. There was a tear in its magic about half a mile offshore—which we’d fly
through.
But standing in that hallway, all of them in their fighting leathers and me bundled in a
heavy, fur-lined cloak, I took one look at Rhys and felt those hands on my thighs again.
Felt how it’d been to look inside his mind, felt his cold rage, felt him … defend himself,
his people, his friends, using the power and masks in his arsenal. He’d seen and endured
such … such unspeakable things, and yet … his hands on my thighs had been gentle, the
touch like—
I didn’t let myself finish the thought as I said, “I’ll fly with Azriel.”
Rhys and Cassian looked as if I’d declared I wanted to parade through Velaris in
nothing but my skin, but the shadowsinger merely bowed his head and said, “Of course.”
And that, thankfully, was that.