2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

quiet, I could have sworn I heard the clash of the sea, clawing at the distant cliffs.
Eventually, we entered a small restaurant beside the river, built into the lower level of a
two-story building, the whole space bedecked in greens and golds and barely big enough
to fit all of us. And three sets of Illyrian wings.
But the owner knew them, and kissed them each on the cheek, even Rhysand. Well,
except for Amren, whom the owner bowed to before she hustled back into her kitchen and
bade us sit at the large table that was half in, half out of the open storefront. The starry
night was crisp, the wind rustling the potted palms placed with loving care along the
riverside walkway railing. No doubt spelled to keep from dying in the winter—just as the
warmth of the restaurant kept the chill from disturbing us or any of those dining in the
open air at the river’s edge.
Then the food platters began pouring out, along with the wine and the conversation, and
we dined under the stars beside the river. I’d never had such food—warm and rich and
savory and spicy. Like it filled not only my stomach, but that lingering hole in my chest,
too.
The owner—a slim, dark-skinned female with lovely brown eyes—was standing behind
my chair, chatting with Rhys about the latest shipment of spices that had come to the
Palaces. “The traders were saying the prices might rise, High Lord, especially if rumors
about Hybern awakening are correct.”
Down the table, I felt the others’ attention slide to us, even as they kept talking.
Rhys leaned back in his seat, swirling his goblet of wine. “We’ll find a way to keep the
prices from skyrocketing.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, of course,” the owner said, wringing her fingers a bit. “It’s just
… so lovely to have such spices available again—now that … that things are better.”
Rhys gave her a gentle smile, the one that made him seem younger. “I wouldn’t be
troubling myself—not when I like your cooking so much.”
The owner beamed, flushing, and looked to where I’d half twisted in my seat to watch
her. “Is it to your liking?”
The happiness on her face, the satisfaction that only a day of hard work doing
something you love could bring, hit me like a stone.
I—I remembered feeling that way. After painting from morning until night. Once, that
was all I had wanted for myself. I looked to the dishes, then back at her, and said, “I’ve
lived in the mortal realm, and lived in other courts, but I’ve never had food like this. Food
that makes me … feel awake.”
It sounded about as stupid as it felt coming out, but I couldn’t think of another way to
say it. But the owner nodded like she understood and squeezed my shoulder. “Then I’ll
bring you a special dessert,” she said, and strode into her kitchen.
I turned back to my plate, but found Rhysand’s eyes on me. His face was softer, more
contemplative than I’d ever seen it, his mouth slightly open.