2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

power. What about shape-shifting?”
I glared at him. “Fire, water, and air it is.” Bastard—insufferable bastard.
He didn’t push the matter, thankfully—didn’t ask why shape-shifting might be the one
power I’d never bother to pull apart and master. Perhaps for the same reason I didn’t
particularly want to ask about one key piece of his history, didn’t want to know if Azriel
and Cassian had helped when the Spring Court’s ruling family had been killed.
I looked Rhys over from head to toe: the Illyrian warrior garb, the sword over his
shoulder, the wings, and that general sense of overwhelming power that always radiated
from him. “Maybe you should … go.”
“Why? You seemed so insistent that I train you.”
“I can’t concentrate with you around,” I admitted. “And go … far. I can feel you from a
room away.”
A suggestive curve shaped his lips.
I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you just hide in one of those pocket-realms for a bit?”
“It doesn’t work like that. There’s no air there.” I gave him a look to say he should
definitely do it then, and he laughed. “Fine. Practice all you want in privacy.” He jerked
his chin at my tattoo. “Give a shout down the bond if you get anything accomplished
before breakfast.”
I frowned at the eye in my palm. “What—literally shout at the tattoo?”
“You could try rubbing it on certain body parts and I might come faster.”
He vanished into nothing before I could hurl the candle at him.
Alone in the frost-gilded forest, I replayed his words and a quiet chuckle rasped out of
me.
I wondered if I should have tested out the bow and arrows I’d been given before asking
him to leave. I hadn’t yet tried out the Illyrian bow—hadn’t shot anything in months,
actually.
I stared at the candle. Nothing happened.
An hour passed.
I thought of everything that enraged me, sickened me; thought of Ianthe and her
entitlement, her demands. Not even a wisp of smoke emerged.
When my eyes were on the verge of bleeding, I took a break to scrounge through the
pack I’d brought. I found fresh bread, a magically warmed canister of stew, and a note
from Rhysand that said:
I’m bored. Any sparks yet?
Not surprisingly, a pen clattered in the bottom of the bag.