2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

and “us” taste as foreign on his tongue as they did on mine?
“You look like High Fae,” Nesta cut in, her voice like a honed blade. “But you are not?”
“Only the High Fae who look like them,” Cassian drawled, waving a hand to me and
Rhys, “are High Fae. Everyone else, any other differences, mark you as what they like to
call ‘lesser’ faeries.”
Rhysand at last said, “It’s become a term used for ease, but masks a long, bloody history
of injustices. Many lesser faeries resent the term—and wish for us all to be called one
thing.”
“Rightly so,” Cassian said, drinking from his water.
Nesta surveyed me. “But you were not High Fae—not to begin. So what do they call
you?” I couldn’t tell if it was a jab or not.
Rhys said, “Feyre is whoever she chooses to be.”
Nesta now examined us all, raising her eyes to that crown. But she said, “Write your
letter to the queens tonight. Tomorrow, Elain and I will go to the village to dispatch it. If
the queens do come here,” she added, casting a frozen glare at Cassian, “I’d suggest
bracing yourselves for prejudices far deeper than ours. And contemplating how you plan
to get us all out of this mess should things go sour.”
“We’ll take that into account,” Rhys said smoothly.
Nesta went on, utterly unimpressed by any of us, “I assume you’ll want to stay the
night.”
Rhys glanced at me in silent question. We could easily leave, the males finding the way
home in the dark, but … Too soon, perhaps, the world would go to hell. I said, “If it’s not
too much trouble, then yes. We’ll leave after breakfast tomorrow.”
Nesta didn’t smile, but Elain beamed. “Good. I think there are a few bedrooms ready
—”
“We’ll need two,” Rhys interrupted quietly. “Next to each other, with two beds each.”
I narrowed my brows at him.
Rhys explained to me, “Magic is different across the wall. So our shields, our senses,
might not work right. I’m taking no chances. Especially in a house with a woman
betrothed to a man who gave her an iron engagement ring.”
Elain flushed a bit. “The—the bedrooms that have two beds aren’t next to each other,”
she murmured.
I sighed. “We’ll move things around. It’s fine. This one,” I added with a glare in Rhys’s
direction, “is only cranky because he’s old and it’s past his bedtime.”
Rhys chuckled, Cassian’s wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing
Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own
as well.